


when everybody sees the rainbow (i'm stuck in the rain)

by lexa_lives_in_us



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fake Character Death, M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Keyleth/Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Lives, Poisoning, Slavery, Soulmates, background fjorester, background molly/caleb, colorblind soulmates, mention of previous campaign, mention of rape, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 63,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexa_lives_in_us/pseuds/lexa_lives_in_us
Summary: Yasha’s mother dies of childbirth, holding onto life for a couple of hours before giving up on both her husband and her newborn daughter. Yasha’s father is away on a mission when this happens, and when he comes back, he cradles his daughter in his strong arms and softly sings her to sleep.Yasha grows up as a quiet, melancholic child, and when she is three her father realizes she can’t see colors.Beauregard is born in a wealthy household, with a loving mother and an absentee father.Beau can see colors without any sort of problems, so her mother knows that her little girl’s soulmate is somewhere out there in the world.ORThe Beauyasha Colorblind Soulmate AU no one was asking for.





	1. CHAPTER I – Always black and white in my eyes, I’m colorblind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superfrumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfrumpkin/gifts).



> IMPORTANT: Please read the tags before reading this story. The first chapters especially are rougher so, well, you've been warned.
> 
> Soulmate AU: The world is black and white if your Soulmate is not yet born or dead. You can see colors, except for the one of your Soulmate's eyes, until you meet them.
> 
> This thing was supposed to be a one shot, and then before I realized it had turned into a 19k words document, so it will be split in 6 or 7 chapters.  
> Based before the events of Campaign 2 and then following the events from episode 1-21ish

CHAPTER I – Always black and white in my eyes, I’m colorblind

 

Yasha’s mother dies of childbirth, holding onto life for a couple of hours before giving up on both her husband and her newborn daughter.

Yasha’s father is away on a mission when this happens, and when he comes back, he cradles his daughter in his strong arms and softly sings her to sleep.

He allows himself to cry the loss only when he thinks Yasha is asleep, but the baby feels his pain through her bones, each night for the following months.

She grows up as a quiet, melancholic child, and when she is three her father realizes she can’t see colors.

When he asks the cleric of their tribe, he tells them that children like Yasha are uncommon, but real. 

He explains that the reason why no one has ever heard of them is because they generally don’t last long in battle, or they leave their tribe to never come back.

Yasha’s father holds her close and places a protective kiss on the top of her head.

She doesn’t understand, but she feels the fear and the sadness, and that’s enough.

Her father dies in battle a month later, and when the tribe finds out of Yasha’s peculiarity, they don’t think about it twice.

They have no use for a child who can’t see colors except for black and white, and Yasha is barely four when they sell her as a slave.

 

Her slave Master is nice with her. He doesn’t care that she can’t see colors, and he doesn’t make her carry rocks that are too heavy; he lets her go to the bathroom when she needs to, and doesn’t threaten her to leave her outside to the rain if she wets her pants at night.

Other slave masters are not that nice, and Yasha, in her little knowledge of the world, considers herself lucky.

 

It’s only when she is five, almost a year after she’s been sold as a slave, that she accidentally stumbles onto her slave master and one of the other girls that work with her, a new slave that they have acquired just last week.

Yasha doesn’t understand why she’s crying, why he’s touching her that way. She doesn’t understand, but she perceives fear and pain and loss and disgust coming from the girl, who is not that much older than her.

She looks as her slave master covers the girl’s body with his own, and she sniffs, before running away.

She doesn’t know how she knows, but she is certain her slave master has seen her, too.

She doesn’t say a word of it to anyone.

 

It’s the second day of the third month of the year when Yasha brings her hands to her head and lets out a blood curdling scream.

Colors rush into her vision early in the morning, and it’s too much, too overwhelming for her little, young mind. The sensation is over stimulating and her head cracks in two for the pain and the discomfort.

She screams, and screams, waking up half the camp.

Her slave master is not nice to her anymore when he beats her with his stick to try to shut her up.

She screams louder, tears running down her face, until she passes out.

 

***

 

Across mountains and valleys and caves and villages, a baby releases its first cry.

 

***

 

It’s the second day of the third month of the year, when Beauregard breathes in life for the first time.

 

Her first day of life is daunted by a deep pain that a baby can’t understand nor express differently than crying; so Beauregard cries and cries and cries for a full day, with her mother clutching her to her chest and her father looking out of the window of the nursery with little to no interest in to what is happening to his newborn daughter.

 

***

 

Yasha wakes up on her sleep area, covered in cuts and bruises, and she faintly wonders if this much pain can kill her.

She doesn’t understand how injuries work, she doesn’t understand that the liquid covering her body is not water, but blood. 

She’s never seen the color of either one, so she just changes into her second pair of clothes, hanging the old one to dry, before collapsing on the ground again.

It’s only in the morning that the other slaves tell her what the red on her crusty clothes means, and some of the better ones help her clean herself up as best as they can.

Luckily, none of her wounds get infected, and Yasha slowly pushes herself back on her feet, spending the next few weeks trying to hide the pain of each bruise.

Somehow, the same reason why she got beat up in the first place is also what helps her live this nightmare through.

She sees the world in colors, now.

She sees the green of the trees and of her bruises, the yellow of the bees and of her slave master’s jewels; she observes in awe some of the tieflings that have been captured as slaves a few weeks prior, loving the soft purple of their skin.

She sees beauty for the first time in a bush they cross, and although she recognizes the color because it’s the same of her blood. She picks a little one up, brings it to her nose and falls in love with flowers.

Yasha learns to rediscover the world in colors, and it takes a few weeks before she realizes, not without a bit of disappointment, that she can’t still see the color of the sky.

The other slaves say it’s a color called blue, the same color of what their slave master’s robes appear to be.

Yasha looks with sadness at the sky and sighs at the sight of clouds.

She knows now that their colors are what other people call white and grey, but she can’t enjoy the newfound knowledge since they rest on a colorless sky.

 

*** 

 

Beauregard is born in a wealthy household, with a loving mother and an absentee father.

A mother who wakes her up every day with a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist and a smile on her face.

A father who never wanted her in the first place and despises her with his whole being.

A mother who follows her first crawl, her first step, her first tantrum, her first tooth with an encouraging passion.

A father who ignores her cries and turns his head away when his baby daughter tries to reach for him.

A mother who loves her more than life itself and a father who just wanted a boy.

Beauregard says “Mama!” For the first time and her mom cries.

Beauregard says “Papa?” For the first time her dad leaves the room.

 

Beau can see colors without any sort of problems, so her mother knows that her little girl’s soulmate is somewhere out there in the world. 

It’s her only consolation, knowing that, one day, Beauregard will be loved with the love she deserves that right now she is being denied.

It only takes a few little games for Beau’s mother to figure out that the missing color in her baby’s eyesight is a greenish blue that resembles the color of the purest of waters, the color of the sky right before it turns from blue to orange and then into night.

“Your Soulmate has beautiful eyes, Beau.” She whispers each night before putting her baby girl to sleep. “And so do you.”

 

***

 

It’s been months since the first time Yasha’s started seeing colors, when she is woken up by a storm.

She can’t fall back asleep, so she decides to go take a look outside.

What she sees, is the color of the sky. It’s black and purple and it thunders yellow and gold. It’s full of colors that are so different than the sad, greyish one of the sky she’s used to.

Yasha falls in love with the storm, and the storm falls in love with her.

 

***

 

Beauregard’s father starts travelling around the land for work more and more often. So often that Beau doesn’t see him for weeks at a time, then for months.

She turns into a joyful young toddler, always climbing all over her mother’s dressers and wielding her father’s walking sticks like they’re weapons. She pretends she’s a knight, like the ones of the legends. She finds a particularly interesting book with pictures in her father’s collection and she forces her mother to read it to her.

Since that day, she doesn’t pretend to be a knight anymore and she starts hollering at the top of her lungs that she is a Druid capable of shape shifting into whichever animal she pleases.

Beau’s mother watches as her child grows strong and carefree and she praises the Voice of the Tempest that her daughter loves so much that she will remain that way.

 

It’s around Beau’s third birthday that her mother realizes Beau’s life will be absolutely everything but carefree or easy.

It’s a beautiful day, and just as clouds start to appear on the horizon, the toddler drops on the grass as she’s playing outside and starts crying.

 

***

 

It’s early morning, and Yasha has already worked three hours, carrying rocks and wooden pieces that had cause her hands to bleed.

The slave master has been eyeing her with a strange look for a couple of weeks now, and Yasha wants to do her best not to disappoint him

She knows what happens to those slaves who disappoint their masters.

So Yasha works hard and fast, and her young body shakes in the effort of lifting rocks that are bigger than her. She’s growing taller, and bulkier; her hair is black like the night sky, and her skin is soft even with all the scars that map her limbs.

Yasha does her best, but she’s only eight.

She works all day without ever complaining, and evening rolls slowly by.

Inevitably, after so many hours breathing dust under the sun, she trips and falls.

She gets up immediately, but her slave master is already next to her, grabbing her wrist.

The tent he leads her in is warm and it smells funny, and Yasha doesn’t completely understand what it’s about to happen, but she feels it.

She feels that the reason why so many girls look like their spirits have been broken after one night spent in that tent with their slave master, is not a good reason.

Yasha is frozen in place as she looks the man who was once so nice to her try to push her to the sleep mat.

Yasha is frozen in place, until she is not.

Before she can even realize it, she is pulling her hand away, she is grabbing the nearest object and she is slamming it against her slave master’s face.

He is not a tall man, and she is now taller than she was when she has met him for the first time, and she brings the candlestick down on his head once, twice, three times. He tries to fight her off, but every effort is in vane. Yasha’s fury mixes to fear and pain, and she keeps hitting, and hitting, and hitting, until her arm is numb and her vision is completely blurred by tears.

She stops and she cries, quietly, as she sits on the warm ground in front of the lifeless body of her slave master.

That’s how they find her in the morning, covered in red blood and brownish dirt. The other slave masters take turns into beating her, punching her, kicking her, until Yasha stops screaming, until she stops bleeding, until she stops crying, until she stops breathing.

 

***

 

Beau’s mother hurries to her side and checks her all over for injuries, without finding any.

It’s only when Beau starts sobbing against her chest in fear that she understands, and her heart breaks.

“I can’t see.” Beauregard hiccups, in the only way a three year old can express the sudden lack of colors in her world. “I can’t see.”

 

***

 

Yasha is only eight when she dies.

 

***

 

Beauregard spends two whole days crying, inconsolable, between her mother’s arms.

When the fear of not seeing is not overwhelming her, it’s her bumping into walls and furniture, or tripping over her own feet because she can’t see properly, that makes her burst into tears.

She exhausts herself and cries herself to sleep, and her mother’s heart breaks with every tear the girl sheds.

 

A powerful storm rages all across Tal’Dorei and Wildemount for the whole two days and nights, nothing like anyone has ever seen.

 

When the sun rises over Kamordah, on the third day, Beauregard opens her eyes and stumbles out of bed. She runs to her mother’s bedroom and slams the door open, waking up the woman on the massive bed with kisses and laughter.

“I see.” She says. “It’s okay, momma. I see.”

Beau’s mom doesn’t know how to explain this miracle, but she gathers her daughter closer to her chest and celebrates today as a new day. A birthday, of some sort.

The day the Gods had brought her daughter’s soulmate back to life.

 

***

 

Yasha wakes up in between scarce and tall trees. She’s lying in the dirt and that’s how she knows she’s still around Xorhas. She would recognize the golden dust everywhere.

Her clothes are wet and she can’t immediately figure out if it’s with water or with blood.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, and the last thing she remembers before losing consciousness is pain and desperation.

She wonders if she’s dead.

 

When the first bite of hunger hits her, she knows she isn’t.

Yasha is alone in the woods, and as she tries to start a fire to roast the rat she’s captured, she realizes she’s alone.

Except, she’s not.

She falls asleep and dreams of evil and benevolent Gods.

One of them smiles at her and she shyly smiles back.

The Stormlord hugs the small child with gentle arms, and Yasha cries, and vows her life to the God who saved it.

 

When she wakes up, the Stormlord leads her feet to a nearby stream, where Yasha washes herself and studies how her body has changed over the past few days.

Her skin is paler, her body is stronger, and the tip of her hair has faded to a white color. Blinking at her own reflection, she winks each eye and marvel at the new color of her right eye. It’s a bright purple, and Yasha loves it.

 

As she bathes in the river, with trial and errors, Yasha learns to swim.

She laughs, and as far away thunders announce the arrival of another storm, the Stormlord watches over her.

 

***

 

Beau’s mother is insistent into giving her child some teaching, and she is something she brings up one night when her husband is home.

The man doesn’t seem to have an opinion in merit, but by the end of the month Beau is going to a scholar’s house twice a week, together with three other kids from the wealthiest families of Kamordah, to receive private teachings.

Beauregard is curious, and she gives her mother one hell of a life. The kid is keen to get into troubles, she is a hard headed, passion driven, good naturedly active child.

She likes to climb and get into fights.

By the time she turns seven, she has collected an enviable amount of scars.

Her mother smiles and patches every single scratch with a heavy heart. She knows her child is going to have a tough life because of her strong personality, and she wishes she could protect her from all the evils.

Beau saunters into her parents’ bedroom to see her father pack before each trip.

“Stay, Papa?” she asks, every time.

He never does, and sometimes Beau sniffles and feels tears falling.

But Beauregard doesn’t cry anymore like the day her world went colorless, and she lives her childhood proving her mother that whatever will happen, she is going to be ready for it.

 

***

 

Yasha travels across the deserted lands, guided by her Stormlord’s words, protected by the God’s power.

She slowly makes her way through Xorhas, and she hides.

The Stormlord has a mission for her, and she needs to earn herself a weapon of some sort, if she wants to complete it.

She wants to make her God happy, and she finds a job in a pub, gathering money, strength and knowledge.

There, she hides for the next few years, training in secret with the help of travelers she meets, as her body changes and shapes into the one of a warrior.

 

***

 

It’s a sunny day when the Master gives the kids some dyes, and Beauregard grabs her colors and happily paints the outlined figures. She does her best to color inside the lines, she makes sure every paint stroke is in the same direction, and she is happy and proud of herself when she hands her finished drawing of a castle over to her teacher.

The other kids laugh loud when they see it.

Her teacher shakes his head.

Beauregard is confused. She is hurt and she tries not to show it.

“Beauregard. Castles are not purple.” The teacher chastises her.

“That’s grey! I know what grey looks like.” She grumbles, frowning.

And she does. It’s the color of the sky right before the sun sets, it’s the color of her neighbor’s flower. It’s the color of her mom’s earing. It’s the color of the streets of Zadash, that she’s seen in books. The color of castles and swords.

The kids laughs louder.

Beau feels tears prickling in her eyes and she closes her hands in two fists.

“SHUT UP!” she screams, but the kids don’t stop giggling.

Beau grabs the drawing from the teacher’s hands and tears in four pieces, throwing them to the floor.

Beau’s frown deepens as the teacher looks at her with sad eyes, and asks her to go wait in the hallway.

 

Beau’s mother arrives at the scholar’s house within the next hour, worried for what her daughter might have done this time.

Today of all days is not an ideal time to be called in, because Beau’s father is back home from his travels, and he is never happy when Beau misbehaves. Especially when she does so during her teachings.

Beauregard waits with her feet dangling from the stool, and she lights up when she sees her mother. But her smile is daunted and it looks more like a grin that Beau is using to cover up how she really feels.

Her mother knows her too well, and she immediately feels her daughter’s pain and worry.

“Ma’am.” The scholar begins, as the woman clutches the kid to her chest. “Have you ever explained your daughter how Soulmates work? Generally kids of Beauregard’s age already know what to expect, and they know which colors can and can’t see.”

Beau is confused and so is her mother.

“Of course she does.” The woman answers. “Beau hasn’t been able to see the green-blue of water since she was born. What does this have anything to do with-?”

Beauregard hides her face in her mother’s cloak, as the teacher sighs.

“Beauregard can’t see purple either, ma’am.”

The woman looks between the teacher and her daughter, and clears her voice.

“I don’t understand.” She admits. “She’s always been able to see purple, since…”

As her voice fades away, the teacher sighs again.

“Has Beauregard ever experienced any issue with her sight? Any unbalance, any disturbance?”

Beau looks up at her mother when she feels her tensing against her. The woman looks paler, and sadder.

“Only once. Beau was three and… She just stopped seeing colors.”

Beau trembles, and her mother holds her tighter.

“For two days, she couldn’t see colors, and then they just… Came back.” She whispers, remembering her daughter’s pain and feeling it like her own. “What does this mean?”

The teacher pauses, trying to figure out the most delicate way to explain the situation.

“Sometimes… Sometimes, when someone’s Soulmate goes through something traumatic, the other person experiments disturbances in their vision. Some other times, when the Soulmate, well, dies… It happens the same thing.”

Beau’s mother shakes so hard that the little girl clutched to her chest feels an anguish that she’s never felt before.

“But her sight… It came back…”

The teacher sighs for the third time, and Beau feels the instinct to punch him in the face.

“I’m sorry. It happens, sometimes, but what Beauregard has experienced…”

Beau doesn’t want to listen anymore, nor apparently does her mother.

They leave the building in a rush, and Beau holds onto her only anchor for the whole duration of the trip home.

 

The moment they step through the door, Beau’s father meets them with a disapproving look and asks what had happened.

When his wife tells him, he moves his gaze on his daughter and sneers.

“You couldn’t be a boy, and you are not even able to behave like a proper girl. No man would have loved you anyway.”

Beauregard feels hot tears threatening to fall from her eyes, but she wants to prove her father that she can be strong as he wants her to be.

So she just lifts her chin and doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t shed one single tear in his presence.

 

When her mother helps her to bed, that night, Beau holds her hand a little bit tighter.

“Am I broken, Mama?” she asks. “Is that why Papa doesn’t love me, and my Soulmate is gone?”

The woman’s heart breaks once again for the pains of her little girl, and she shakes her head.

“No, my sweet angel. You are not broken, nor unlovable. You are wonderful. So wonderful that you are unique, and you will find someone who will love you the way I do. And I love you more than life itself.”

Beauregard nods and smiles a smile that doesn’t reach her blue eyes.

She doesn’t believe her mother.

 

***

 

Yasha grows strong, keeping a low profile in Xorhas as the handyman of the worst pubs in town.

She learns the way of the sword, and she learns about the slave trade happening just outside the walls of the city.

She learns every slave Master’s name, their schedules, their guilty pleasures, their paychecks, their desires.

She learns how they dispose of the bodies they don’t need, and how many people they break each month in order to make them obey.

She learns of tortures, of blood and bile, and she feels less regret for the life she’s taken.

Yasha grows strong, and her desire for justice grows with her.

It’s a fine line between revenge and justice, and the Stormlord makes her walk it on tip toes and bated breath.

 

***

 

Her mother falls sick when Beauregard is fourteen.

The doctors come and go from their house, and for the first time since she has memory, her father doesn’t leave town.

Beauregard watches as her father loses that last bit of humanity he had left, as his Soulmate slowly fades before their eyes.

Beauregard gets into more fights in school, she discovers sex and alcohol, and how numbing they can be when all she wants is for the pain to disappear.

She climbs into her classmates bedrooms when they invite her over in secret, and she fucks them and she lets them fuck her, she lets every girl raw her body without a care in the world.

And when meaningless sex is not enough to numb the desperation and the pain, she steals from her father’s cabinet and drinks herself to stupidity, passing out in the same bedroom where her mother used to sing her to sleep.

Her father doesn’t notice her disruptive behavior, or if he does, he doesn’t seem to care.

 

Beauregard is brushing her mother’s long, brown hair, when the woman raises a hand and grabs her daughter’s wrist.

“Beau. I need you to promise me one thing.” She says, voice weak and trembling from the sickness.

Beau sits on the mattress and nods.

She has grown taller, more slender. Her hair falls gentle on her shoulders, and she blows it away when a strand crosses her eyes.

“Anything, Mama.” She says, intertwining her fingers with her mother’s.

“You have to promise me you won’t let anyone break you.” The woman says.

“I’d like to see them try.” Beau grins.

She’s gotten better at hiding her pain behind her walls, but her mother will always know better.

“Beauregard.” She murmurs.

The grin falls, and so does Beau’s head.

“I’m already broken, Mama.” She whispers, sadly.

The grip on her hand grows stronger, as the woman tries to shake her daughter’s arm to get her attention.

“You are not. You are a beautiful, gentle, caring soul. You always speak your mind, and it’s a quality not many possess. Beauregard, my child, you are far from being broken. You will find people who will love you the way you are. But in the meantime, you can’t let anyone break you and change you. And believe me, many will try.”

Beauregard caresses her mother’s cheek with love and adoration, fixing the blanket over the woman’s fevering body.

“I will do my best, Mama.” It’s all she can say. “I promise.”

Her mother smiles, and closes her eyes, too tired to keep them open.

“I love you, Beauregard.”

Beau is thankful that her mother can’t see her now, or she would be pained by the tears streaming down her young face.

“I love you, too, Mama.” She says back, her voice strong and unwavering.

 

Beauregard’s mother dies the night of Midsummer, as the birds chirp outside and the music of the Festival reaches the bedroom window.

Beauregard stands in the doorway as her father lets himself cry, and she watches as her mother’s body lies lifeless in a bed where they have laughed and cuddled countless of times.

“It’s your fault.” Her father says as he finally leaves the room. “You broke her heart too many times.”

Beau swallows tears and nods.

“I know.”

 

 


	2. CHAPTER II – When the world is seeing yellow, I only see grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I encourage all of you to READ the TAGS. This story ain't gonna be fun, like, at all. It's filled with angst, so, yenno, you've been warned.
> 
> Second thing second, I'm blown away by the response I've been getting, and I wanted to thank all of you for commenting. You have no idea how much I appreciate it, really.
> 
> Title and chapters of this fanfiction are from the song Colorblind by Amber Riley, and every chapter's title is somehow related to what is happening in it.

CHAPTER II – When the world is seeing yellow, I only see grey

 

Her father dresses his wife in purple vestige for the funeral, a last blow to the daughter he resents so much.

Beauregard watches as they lower her mother’s body on the ground, and her last memories of her are painted in an ugly, lifeless grey.

 

The day after the funeral, Beauregard packs a few clothes and a picture of her mother, knowing that there is nothing more that she wants to bring with her.

Her father drops her at a monastery the day after and never looks back.

 

The monks welcome Beau into their home, introducing her to their God, the Knowing Mistress, Ioun.

They give her shelter and food and they offer her a new home.

Beau knows she could leave and go find a job somewhere, live out her life trying to find a purpose, wasting all the money her father has left her on alcohol and women.

Beauregard abandons her clothes and takes the monk robes, joining the Way of The Cobalt Soul.

 

***

 

Yasha spends years studying and spying. She spends even more years planning. The Stormlord always guides her, quietly, from backstage.

As she grows in body and spirit, it becomes harder and harder for her to maintain a low profile. She has grown to her full height by the time she’s twenty, and her name is starting to be known by more than a couple people.

Sensing that the risk to be noticed is rising, and knowing she can’t be recognized if she wants to bring on the mission the Stormlord has set up for her, she disappears into the night, leaving a couple golden coins on the bedside table of the man who’s offered her a job and shelter for all these years.  
Yasha knows Xorhas is not filled with just filth. She knows that many people in town are disgusted by the slave trade happening just outside the city, and she knows that one day, those people will be able to help her.

Yasha finds a job as a watchman at the only bank of Xorhas, on the other side of the immense town.

The woman that hires her is almost as tall as she is, she’s confident and very attractive, and Yasha feels herself blushing every time she’s in her presence.

The woman compliments her on her hair, on her eyes, on her weapons, on her muscles, and spars with her when they’re both off shift and Yasha is not lurking in the shadows to find out more about the slave trade.

As they fight, as they sit side by side, as they share an ale after a particularly intense night, Yasha feels her body awakening, and she experiences sensations she’s never felt before. That woman makes her feel things, and Yasha is not prepared for them. She doesn’t know how to answer those needs.

She asks the Stormlord for advice on the matter, but the Stormlord doesn’t answer.

 

***

 

Beau is a terrible student, and an even worse monk.

She hates meditation, and she can’t stand the hours she is forced to spend in the library with the older monks, trying to learn things that she doubts she’ll ever need in her life.

The monks get frustrated with her lack of interest, and they punish her every time her attention flies somewhere else; something that happens often. Beau has always had trouble maintaining her focus, and it’s no different now that she’s at the monastery.

They punish her by making her do the heaviest chores: from scrubbings the washing areas to working the land.

Her hands, never too used to do the rough work, bleed at first. Beau refuses to let that stop her, and she keeps working, keeps doing every single thing the monks ask her to do. Sometimes she feels like her spirit is about to break, and give in to the monastery’s life. But Beau refuses to bend.

She’s lived the life of a wealthy girl her whole life, and now the monks are making her realize the harshness of the world.

Beau doesn’t cry when her blisters keep her awake at night, and day by day, week by week, her body adapts.

Her hands become more callous; her skin tans from the hours under the sun; her knees and bones start hurting less during the hours of meditation; every trace of body fat disappears or turns into muscle tissue thanks to the rigorous training and the rigorous diet. The monks are firm believer that no one should have more food than what is strictly necessary.

Her body adapts and bends, but her mind never does.

 

The only thing the monks can’t reprimand her for is her faith.

Beau starts every day by visiting the statue of her Goddess, sitting down on the grass and murmuring her prayers.

Her only friend and comfort is Ioun, and Ioun smiles down at her with a smile that reminds her that of her mother.

 

On the day of her sixteenth birthday, her father arrives at the monastery.

Beauregard greets him in the front yard, at the hottest hour of the day.

“Papa.” She says.

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t flinch. He gives her a once over and cocks an eyebrow.

“You have changed.”

Beau crosses her arms on her chest and nods.

She is as tall as the man who has abandoned her in that same place two years ago, and she is not afraid of him and his judgement anymore.

“The monks have contacted me saying something ridiculous about my daughter wanting to drop her own father’s last name for-“

“You were never a father.”

A shadow passes over the man’s face at the girl’s words.

“Excuse me?”

Beau takes a step forward, and she is happy to see that her father takes one back.

“You have never behaved like one. I carry your name, but I don’t want it.” Beau says, calmly, quietly. “I am taking the last vows to my Goddess, tomorrow. I won’t need it anyway.”

She cocks her head.

“But I am still underage, and I need your word of agreement to the monks.”

The man closes his hands in two fists, and breathes a hiss of displeasure.

Beau shakes her head with a bitter laugh.

“You’ve never wanted me, anyway, Papa.” It’s the last thing she says. “What do you have to lose?”

She doesn’t stick around to receive an answer, as she turns and leaves the yard.

She doesn’t see him leaving, but that night, the monks come to tell her that she is allowed to move forward in her training.

Beauregard quietly walks back to her room and she lets herself cry at the loss of her last tie to her family.

Now she is truly alone in the world.

 

In the morning, the monks help her shave her hair and press a small tattoo between her shoulder blades; the symbol of her commitment to Ioun.

Her new training starts with the selection of her weapon. She immediately picks up the nunchaku, amused and curious by their bending nature.

Beau masters the art of that weapon in the span of a year, aided by her God and showing a natural ability in the field. It’s during one of her training sessions that she sees her for the first time.

She is the daughter of a merchant, and she is being held in the monastery for protection.

Beau falls for her hard and fast, and the girl falls for her, too.

 

***

 

Yasha receives her first kiss late one night as she is standing guard with the same woman who gives it to her.

They wait until the end of their shift, then stumble back to the woman’s house, clothes shedding on their path to the sleeping area. Yasha loses herself in the feeling of being touched, in the pleasure of fingers, mouth, teeth, and tongue exploring her.

She learns the ways of her body and she learns how to use it to give pleasure to another living being, and she watches the other woman sleep for a few minutes, before heading out the door.

 

***

 

Beau and the girl spend every possible moment together. Beau starts skipping her classes and missing her training sessions, cutting short on her meditation hours, in order to stay with her.

They kiss and laugh in secret, hidden from the other monks, and Beau thinks, for the first time, that maybe someone in the world can actually love her.

She lives the happiest months of her life since her mother has died, and she takes every punishment with a fresh smile on her face.

The day the girl’s mother comes back to take her home, Beau feels her only chance of happiness slip away.

“Stay.” She says, she begs, holding the girl’s hands with desperation and need. “Please. Stay here, with me.”

And the girl smiles a sad smile, but it’s not nearly as desperate as the anguish in Beauregard’s bones.

“I’m sorry, Beau. I don’t want to.”

Beau lets those hands slip away from hers, and she watches her go with the last fragment of hope that she had left in her heart.

 

***

 

As she works security during the day, and once in a while works the other woman’s body during the nights, Yasha starts venturing outside the perimeter of the town.

She makes her way to the slave centers, and she breaks in the first, smaller camps. Silent and fast, she kills the more inexperienced slave masters and takes their slaves with her. She guides them back through the channels she has studied for years, and she helps them run towards furthest city complexes in some cases, or assign them to families in the nearby villages that she has found and spoken to during her years of anonymity.

The Stormlord has many followers, Yasha discovers, and none of them wants to partake in the slave trade that seems to be so active in the outskirt of Xorhas.

Yasha loses track of the time she spends working her way through each slave camp, but she doesn’t care.

She is meticulous and precise as she knows she needs to be if she wants to dismantle the trade once and for all.

And when she feels her faith wavering, when she fails to save lives, the Stormlord gives her strength, and patience, and Yasha closes her eyes, both the one she’s had since birth and the one that has changed color when the Stormlord has given her life for the second time, and breathes.

Yasha is finally ready when the day comes.

She knows that, after her scouting and research, after her studies and her planning, it’s finally time to start acting out her God’s desire.

 

***

 

Beauregard’s stubbornness and distaste for rules increases. She becomes more resistant to the monks’ teachings, and the Head of the monastery makes the decision to transfer her.

Beau simply shrugs when they tell her. She is not a stranger to people giving up on her. They reassign her to the Archive of the Cobalt Soul, a tall, tapering tower that curves off at the top into a dome-like pinnacle in the very heart of Zadash.

There, an archivist by the name of Zeenoth, takes it as his job to teach her.  
Beau has no doubt that she’ll end up disappointing him.

During her ability assessment training, Zeenoth takes the nunchaku from her hands and substitutes them with a bo staff.

“You are too used to bending things; from the rules, to your teachers’ patience. It’s time you learn the way of the staff.”

Beau clenches her fists on the weapon, and sneers.

“Let’s get one thing straight, shall we?” she chuckles. “I’m not.”

Some of the other monks in training snort and giggle next to her, and Beau cocks one eyebrow in Zeenoth’s direction.

The elf grabs his staff, and hits Beauregard hard on the head.

 

***

 

The day has finally come.

Yasha turns in her mat without being able to catch any sleep, and although she knows that in a few days her mission will be finally over, she can’t bring herself to quiet her tumbling thoughts.

So she gets out of bed and out of her quarters, and she walks the deserted streets with a quick pace.

The woman she’s looking for opens the door at her first knock.

Yasha kisses her with fire and passion, and the woman breaks away to look at her in the eyes.

“I can’t give you love, Yasha.” She says, cautious. “You know that.”

“It is not love I seek.” She answers, and she is sincere.

She knows love is not in her plans, in her God’s plans. She knows love is not something that was made for her, as all her few, past relationships have shown.

The woman nods and grins, and drags her in the house, kicking the door shut.

It’s the last time, and Yasha knows it.

When morning comes, she is gone, and she doesn’t say goodbye.

 

***

 

Beau _hates_ the bo staff.

No matter how much she tries, she can’t seem to make it work the way she wants to. No matter how hard she trains, the staff always slips from her grip, or doesn’t spin the way she wants it to; too fast or even too slow.

At least twice a day, she manages to slam the hard wood right on her nose.

At the end of every training session, Beau stumbles back to her room with a new collection of bruises because the damn thing doesn’t want to obey her body movements.

It frustrates her to no end.

It’s not like the nunchaku, that would bend to her will and would always be ready to be caught in any part of her body she had wished to send them.

The bo staff seems to have a life of its own, and it hurts every time the hard wood connects to one of her joints.

Zeenoth watches and supervises her with a smug grin, and Beauregard refuses to let him win. Refuses to acknowledge that, to her, mastering the bo staff is probably the hardest task she’s ever been given since she’s joined the Cobalt Soul.

So she keeps going. She keeps training, sometimes even outside of the training hours, but even as she studies the art of a weapon that’s supposed to make her more inclined to the monk’s way, Beau’s relationship with her masters and with the other trainees remains rocky.

Beau gets into fights, sneaks out at night to explore the Reserve and the rest of the Terrace, and gets into more troubles than ever.

Zeenoth is not happy with her, but Beau doesn’t care. She learns what she can and does what is necessary so as not to be kicked out. And, as she looks out of the windows of the Reserve, she grows unsatisfied day after day.

 

***

 

Yasha breaks in the main slave camp during lunch, where all the remaining slave masters are discussing how to face the threat of the shadow that’s been killing their fellow masters.

Yasha slips in the tent and makes the mistake to look at their faces before attacking.

She stops dead in her tracks, as they all turn to look at her. Only a dozen are left, but she recognizes more than half of them.

She recognizes those who have come to her camp when she was a child, who have stolen young girls and have returned them broken and bent, ashamed and soulless. She recognizes those who have found her with the body of her own slave master, she recognizes the fists that have struck her against her ribs, and the boots of those who have kicked her in the face until nothing was left but blood and pain.

She recognizes the faces of those men and women who have left her dead in the woods, against dirt and sand and wild creatures.

As all of them spring into action against her, Yasha feels herself rage. She feels the anger, the fury of past pains and torture resurface, she feels a hatred and a disgust that she’s never felt before; her vision blurs.

She faintly acknowledges the skin of her back stretching and pulling, as two large skeletal black wings emerge from her shoulder blades. The dark energy emanating from her body seems to suck the light from inside the tent, as the few candles vibrate and then puff into little blows of smoke.

The white tips of her hair go completely black, and so do her eyes, turned into two deep pool of darkness and death.

Like an angel of justice, Yasha slowly strides forward, and her blade claims the blood of four slave masters before the voice of the Stormlord gently calls her back to the Earth.

Yasha blinks a couple times, feeling the rage fading but not disappearing from her body, as her wings slowly retreat into her back.

The remaining slave masters are looking at her, frozen in fear, and they know their day has finally come.

Yasha knocks them unconscious one by one, dragging them in the center of the camp’s square where public executions were usually held.

She gathers the guards, mercenaries, and gives them a choice. The majority choose to run and never come back, but some try to stay and fight.

Yasha, who was once afraid of a single one of them, let alone a group, effortlessly knocks them over and ties them with the slave masters.

She then frees the slaves, one by one, and she finally blows the horn she’s carried with her.

From the outer ring of the camp, more people arrive: childless parents, elderly farmers, lonely workers with no friends or family, all followers of the Stormlord and haters of the slave trade.

Yasha slowly retreats as she watches the slaves being taken care of, knowing that her God will keep an eye on all of them.

She leaves the fate of the masters to the newly freed, and as she walks away from the camp and from Xorhas, she forces herself to listen to the screams of those people whose life is now being taken by their own slaves.

 

***

 

Beauregard resists a couple more years in the Reserve.

The monks keep trying to teach her what they know, considering her a great promise and a good addition to their ranks, but Beau’s personality keeps clashing more and more with the one of those who try to teach her.

By the time she’s twenty-two, two of her fellow monks tell her that they’ve started seeing colors, and that they’re going to get married soon to one another.

Beau packs a few of her belongings that same night, and she runs off with only her bo staff as a weapon, the only reminder of the perfection that she strives to achieve.

 

***

 

Yasha walks for days, weeks.

She hunts for her food and sleeps on the streets, and she puts as much road as she can between herself and Xorhas.

She walks without knowing where she is going, trusting that the Stormlord will eventually talk to her to let her know of new plans.

It’s then that she sees the Stormlord for the first time, stepping out of the sky, causing the ground to shake and growl.

As the Stormlord extend one hand towards her, Yasha hears her God’s voice for the first time.

“You’ve walked the right path. Be strong. Don’t forget who you were. And decide who you will become.”

The Stormlord disappears, and Yasha keeps walking.

She doesn’t have a destination, but it’s by striding forward without one that Yasha sees the world changing. The dirt and the sand of the hard desert slowly morphs, changing into something soft and colored in green.

Yasha caresses the grass with the tip of her fingers, and sets camp a few hours earlier, deciding to sit on the ground and marvel the beauty of nature.

She scouts the place for animals to eat and she finds flowers. She picks them with care, and carries them with her as a treasure worth thousands of gold pieces.

It’s by following the paths through the grass that she stumbles onto a circus.

 

***

 

Beauregard tries to keep a low profile when she reaches Port Damali.

She finds a job as the docks and keeps herself occupied, as her body adapts once again to another kind of manual work, and her mind works to figure out her next steps.

She spends almost three months in the town before she gets word that monks of the Cobalt Soul are looking for someone.

In less than one hour, she disappears.

 

***

 

The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities is eager to welcome her between their ranks. Gustav, the circus master, doesn’t hesitate to offer her a job as security, since their orc has decided to remain in the last town they’ve visited after finding his soulmate.

Yasha nods, masking her frown, and accepts the job.

They assign her to share a tent with one of their entertainers, and she is very confused by the amount of knickknacks and trinkets that the tiefling seems to be constantly wearing.

Mollymauk smiles at her as she enters the tent.

“May I read you your fortune?” he asks.

Yasha feels a chill running down her spine, and she shakes her head. She settles her few belongings next to the mat she’ll be using, and then turns to look at the tiefling.

“What is a Soulmate?” she asks.

 

***

 

Beau keeps travelling from city to city, never stopping for too long, never putting roots or talking too much to anyone.

She does her best not to get into trouble, but trouble follows her like a curse.

She tries to drown her loneliness and her pain with alcohol, but her shadows learn soon how to swim. She tries to suffocate her sorrows in other women’s bodies, but no touch manages to make her feel the way she wants to feel: wanted, and not broken.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice, I've been trying to keep the Stormlord as genderless as possible. Idk, I like the idea that the Stormlord has no gender, while Ioun is already known to be a female God.
> 
> Special thank you to quaktracks (you can find this awesome person on tumblr too) for helping me proofread this.
> 
> Come bug me on tumblr at lexa-lives-in-us.


	3. CHAPTER III – I’ll wait for roses to be red again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, please read the tags.
> 
> I've decided to post it as soon as possible because I will be flying to New York for the weekend, so I won't be able to post anything until I'm back to Vancity.

CHAPTER III – I’ll wait for roses to be red again

Yasha likes Mollymauk.

He spends their first night together telling her all about Soulmates. He explains what he knows about them, he tells her how people can’t see the color that matches their Soulmate’s eyes until the moment they meet them.

When he reveals with a smile how he’d never been able to see blue, Yasha can’t help the slight gasp that escapes her.

Mollymauk grins, knowingly.

“You’ve never been able to see blue, either, I guess?”

Yasha nods, her hands still moving as she passes the stone over her sword.

She loses herself in thoughts, because the certainties of more than twenty years of life have been utterly destroyed by one simple conversation.

She had no idea that a thing such a Soulmate existed, and she’s so used to seeing the world in colors and grey, that she can’t imagine how it would be to be able to see the color blue.

Other slaves had described it to her as a lighter, greener purple, but Yasha can’t imagine what it would look like.

She wonders how all those slaves had been able to see all the colors, if Soulmates were such a common thing.

“Does-Does everyone have one?”

Mollymauk shrugs, and mixes his deck of cards.

“Not everyone. But it’s fairly common, from what I’ve heard. Some people never realize they have met their Soulmate, because sometimes it just happens while they’re in a crowd, or they meet them on the opposite side of a battlefield. Some other time, they have a Soulmate, but that person is not theirs.”

Yasha nods and sighs, because that makes more sense.

The idea of having Soulmate is such a strange concept for her.

“I don’t think anyone has me as their Soulmate.” She says, putting her sword back in the scabbard. She unfolds her shawl to use it as a blanket. Her voice is not sad, it’s more matter-of-fact. It’s easy to believe that she could love someone: she had done it before, she has faint memories of her father, and she still remembers the green eyes of a woman she’s left behind. On the other hand, she can’t believe someone in the world was born to love her.

She is born to serve a purpose for the Stormlord, and that is enough for her.

Mollymauk tilts his head, his earing tingling and jingling as he does so, but he doesn’t say anything.

The Carnival is an array of strange creatures, and Yasha learns each and every one of their names on the second day at breakfast.

Toya sings for them as a good morning, and Yasha almost smiles at the beauty of her voice.

Bo the Breaker introduces himself over some wine and bread, extending his arm and flinching just so at the steady grip of Yasha’s shake.

As she wanders around the circus during the set up that’s been happening, Yasha stops to watch the Knot Sisters practicing their act, and she immediately decides that the least she has to interact with anyone, the better is going to be for everyone. She has never dealt well with people in general, and many of the people in that place are way to stranger to her to put her at ease.

So she sits right outside the main tent with her hands skimming over the grass happily.

Yasha walks around the camp every half hour and helps some of the workers while they put up the carnival tent.

For someone who’s used to the long hours of wait and nothingness, this is already more lively than what she’s used to.

At night, when she goes back to her tent, Mollymauk is already asleep, his half naked body sprawled on his mat with no sense of embarrassment.

Yasha heads straight to her bed, and she frowns just so when she notices a small book on her pillow.

“I saw you picking some flowers.” Is what Mollymauk says when she asks about it the next day. “If you put them inside the book, they’ll dry and stay safe.”

Yasha has no words, doesn’t know how to thank him for such a friendly gesture.

“Thank you, Mollymauk.” She ends up murmuring.

The tiefling grins and waves a hand elegantly in the air.

“You can call me Molly, if you’d like.” Is all he answers.

Yasha gets called back from the Stormlord a month from when she joined the Carnival.

Outside, a storm is raging, and Yasha uses the help of the night to leave the camp unnoticed. She stays away for four days, tracking down some merchant who’s been trying to make his way to Xorhas and put their nose in the slave trade market, dispatching him to meet the judgement of the Stormlord. Only then she makes her way back to the Carnival.

She half expects for them to be gone, or for Gustav to ask her to leave, but the man is happy to see her and he thanks her for returning.

Yasha washes herself in the nearby river before heading back to her tent.

Mollymauk greets her with a smile.

He doesn’t ask her where she’s gone, and she doesn’t tell him.

It’s while they’re marching towards their next destination, a town called Trostenwald, that the carnival is attacked by bandits.

Yasha is startled awake as Molly falls out of bed in the chaos.

She grabs her sword, rushing out, seeing one of the bandits grabbing Toya by the wrist. Before she can register anything else, Yasha strides forward with rage, and kills the bandit in one swift motion.

She is joined in the fight by Molly and Bo, and together they kill or send the rest of the bandits running.

“Cool wings.” Says Molly, yawning as he watches Bo going to check on everyone.

Yasha rubs the sleep off her eyes, and takes a closer look at the skeletal wings that once again have sprung from her back. She pokes one of them with a finger and she tries to move them.

The wings bat a couple times, but as much as she tries, Yasha doesn’t think they’re strong enough to lift her off the ground.

As exhaustion comes back and adrenaline wears off, her wings retreat in the back of her shoulder blades, and the two of them make their way back to bed.

 

***

 

Beauregard walks into Trostenwald and crashes in the first Inn she can find. The Nestled Nook Inn is way too expensive for her to stay longer than a few days, but she’s heard that the monks have been moving quickly, so she decides to settle for just a couple days.

When she wakes up the morning after, she is sore and grumpy. The bed is even less comfortable than the mats she’s slept on at the monastery, and she feels her back knotted in a painful tangle.

She decides to leave the Inn and try find some information about the nearest towns. She doesn’t have a map, and she thinks that maybe she should find a way to get one. She knows she’s not going to go far without it.

She makes her way toward the Loch Ward, the most eastern and central ward of the town, where the docks and fishing village are; the first man she encounters tries to sell her some of the fish he’s collected on his latest trip, and Beau almost snarls at him; she feels a pang of guilt, but she moves past any sort of conversation and makes a beeline for what she thinks is the access to the North Ward. As she gets there, she stops in front of a dead end and curses out loud. People around her side glance her but don’t approach her. Beau sits in the sun, right there on the side of the street, and tries to clear her mind from the mess that hovers over her whole being.

She is losing her patience, she is tired of running, of staying, of being surrounded by people, of being alone. She confides in Ioun like many other times before then, she asks for strength, and maybe for a miracle.

After what feels like hours, she stands, breathing in with more ease, and she starts walking between fishermen at their docks and ships getting ready to leave; it’s then that she hears the commotion.

Against her better judgement – _always_ against her better judgement- Beauregard rushes toward the farthest dock, which is adjacent to a small, wooden house, where a fisherman is struggling to pull something out of the water.

Other fishermen are running away from him, from whatever it’s happening, and Beau growls a series of indecencies as she realizes that the man is the same guy who’s tried to sell her fish not even an hour ago, and that what he’s trying to pull out of the water is not a  _ thing _ , but a  _ person _ . A little girl.

Beau acts before her brain finishes thinking, as she dives in the water with her staff and her bags still on her back. She faintly hears a second splash, when someone else dives in right next to her.

The next few minutes pass in a confused rush, as Beauregard does her best to attack and possibly kill the gargantuan snake that is trying to drag the little girl down to the darkness of the lake.

She strikes the animal from both under and above the water with the tip of her staff, successfully stabbing it in the eyes. As she emerges to breathe, she notices that the second individual who has dived in to help is someone who resembles an orc; Beauregard is not sure: the guy is splotched in grey, green and blue, and his tusks are nowhere to be seen. She briefly considers that the grey in his skin might be because of her colorblindness, but she decides that she doesn’t really care as long as he’s going to help her make it out alive.

Together, they keep punching, kicking and –in the guy’s case- slashing the snake, slowly weakening it.

It’s the help of a third person that eventually does the trick.

After striking a particularly powerful double blow that sends one of the giant fangs of the creature flying in the air, Beau hears the yell of a very acute voice saying: “I’m casting Thaumaturgy!" before the ground and the water start shaking with what seem to be harmless vibrations.

The guy next to her seems completely unaffected by it, and Beau is as well, but the creature is so scared by the sudden change in the environment that its defense lowers completely, allowing the man to drive his sword in between its jaws. 

Beauregard is swift in catching the little girl who is still floating, unconscious, in the water. She swims back to the dock with the tiny body and lifts her up where a bright blue tiefling in a very elegant dress grabs the girl and lays her on the hard ground.

Beau drags herself out of the water, shaking her clothes dry, and she acknowledges the guy who's helped her doing the same.

"Name's Fjord." he breathes.

Beau grins. "Beauregard. You can call me Beau, though."

Fjord nods, and he's about to say something else when the very acute voice of the tieflieng penetrates into their conversation.

"I'm Jester! And you can call me Jester, or Jes, or whatever you like. I am fine with anything, really. It’s actually the first time I’ve used Thaumaturgy, wasn’t it like really  _ really  _ cool? Fjord! Have you seen that? I wanna try that again soon."

Beau blinks rapidly at the succession of words that have just invaded her ears and brain, and she watches as Fjord gapes slightly at the tiefling before trying to find his voice.

"Uh, Jester, we talked about this. There is no need to yell when people are right in front of you.”

Jester giggles, then shouts: “Right! Okay!”

Fjord sighs with a half-smile and shakes his head.

Beau laughs, starting to walk away. In no way does she want to attract anyone's attention; especially now that every single fisherman is coming back to see what's happening.

“That was a hell of a fight, back there."

"Oh, yeah." Beau nods and, to her surprise, the pair starts walking with her. She decides to address the tiefling named Jester first.

"Thanks for that thing, man. That was, like, really dope."

Fjord slowly turns to look at her, but if he thinks something, he doesn't say it. He walks right beside her, and eventually nods.

"We're a good team, you guys!" Jester squeals.

Beauregard can't help the grin that comes to split her face and, apparently, neither does Fjord.

 

Together, they wander around the market, and Beau watches with amusement as Jester seems to get excited for every single thing she sees. Fjord doesn't seem to be annoyed by it, and as much as Beauregard is glad that at least one of the two is a much quieter person, Jester is  _ fun _ .

Beauregard doesn't remember a time where she's felt this content to just spend time with some people who do not want to see her fail or succeed at any cost, who don't expect anything from her overall, and she lets herself enjoy the moment as it lasts.

Of course, the moment doesn't last.

Jester starts talking about Soulmates almost as soon as they stop for lunch.

Beauregard sees Fjord tensing right next to her, and she decides that she immediately wants to know more.

"Technically, you know, it should happen right when you meet your Soulmate’s eyes, technically. But what if they’re blind? Or you meet two people at the same time with the same eye color? It’s very confusing. But you know, I'm very  _ very _ curious, Beau. I was never able to see yellow before a few days ago, so it's like, really cool. I know people say it's the color of the sun, but I tried to look at it and it’s, like, really bright, you know?"

Beauregard snickers when she sees Fjord’s, and she is not going to say what they both are thinking. Fjord's eyes are a bright yellow, but Jester doesn't seem to have noticed, or she probably has and she hasn’t made the connection. Beauregard is never too excited to see Soulmates finding each other, mostly because she knows about the lack of her own, but she can't help being curious about how this is going to pan out.

"What color can't you see, guys?" Jester sing-songs. “Or couldn’t see, I guess?”

Fjord mutters a grumpy: "Uh, purple, I think." right when Beau responds, calmly: "My Soulmate's dead."

That, for the first time in almost two hours, shuts both Jester and Fjord up.

After a solid minute of quiet walking, Jester tilts her head in curiosity and displeasure.

"But are you _sure_?"

Fjord winces, and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Jester, for fuck’s sake..."

"What?" she asks. "Like, how can you know if your Soulmate is dead or not? Is there, like, a rule, or something?"

Beau almost smiles. It's the first time since she's known that her Soulmate is nowhere to be found on this plane of existence that someone have not looked at her with pity and pain, so Jester being this curious and diplomatic is somehow refreshing, for her.

"I was, like, three, I think?" she answers, twirling her bo staff in front of her. "And I just stopped seeing colors altogether. For two days or so. And then I got the colors back, except the one that I was never able to see, plus another random color. Anyway. They then told me that's what happens when your Soulmate dies. Or something."

Fjord looks away and purses his lips.

"I'm sorry." he says, eventually.

"Yeah, that kinda sucks, Beau." Jester says, before getting distracted by a stand nearby. "LOOK, GUYS. DONUTS!"

Beau laughs and skips right after the ever happy tiefling.

 

That night, Jester and Fjord follow her to the Inn to find out that they also have a room there.

They decide to share, and as Jester drags her bags to Beau’s room, Fjord quietly locks himself in his own.

Beauregard almost regrets not staying on her own because of the lack of privacy that sharing the room entails, but she knows it’s actually a good thing. That way, she’ll be able to save some more money for future emergencies.

The only real problem is, Jester  _ never _ stops talking.

“Jesteeeeeeeeeeeeer.” She moans, covering her whole face with the pillow. “How are you not exhausted? We legit fought a huge ass snake right this fucking morning.”

Jester keeps jumping on the forsaken bed, not at all preoccupied by the fact that she is most likely going to break it.

“But I have found two new friends in the span of a few days, Beau! It’s so exciting!”

Beau muffles a scream of frustration in the pillow, but it’s dampened by the fact that Jester is right: it is pretty fucking exciting.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Beau nearly jumps out of her skin when Jester’s voice, a second ago coming from the other side of the room, whispers a few inches away from her right ear.

“Jester, what the actual  _ fuck _ ?!”

“I have a secret to tell you, Beau.” She repeats. “Can I?”

Beauregard tries to calm her running heart and she nods, flattening her pillow on her stomach.

Jester plops down on the mattress and declares: “I think Fjord is my Soulmate.”

Beau rolls her eyes and huffs.

“No shit, Jes. Duh.”

Not surprisingly, the sarcasm in her voice goes completely lost on Jester, and the tiefling’s eyes widen almost comically.

“I know,  _ right _ ?!” she squeals. “That’s, like, super crazy! But I met him in Port Damali a few days ago and BAM!”

Jester throws herself face first onto Beau’s stomach, cutting off her breath for a good ten seconds, but the other girl doesn’t seem to notice.

“I start seeing yellow! And I mean, it’s not like everyone’s eyes are yellow, y’know?”

Beau struggles to catch her breath, grabs her pillow and turns, slamming it with all the strength she can master onto Jester’s face.

She sends her flying with her ass on the floor, and the giggle that the tiefling releases makes Beau fall asleep with a smile.

 

***

 

Molly has his fingers deep in Yasha’s hair when Gustav arrives to greet them during dinner.

Yasha can’t help her body tensing.

She has reached a level of comfort around Mollymauk, allowing him to comb and braid her hair, but she’s somehow still uncomfortable showing that kind of vulnerability to others.

Sensing her changing in demeanor, Molly immediately stands, followed right after by Yasha.

“My friends!” Gustav smiles. “I just came to tell you that we’ll leave very early in the morning, before the rise of the sun. I want to arrive at Trostenwald with the first lights of the day, and have our first show in town tomorrow night.”

Molly groans at the prospect of having to get up early, but Yasha only nods.

“Call us when you’re ready to leave.”

 

As promised, the Carnival manages to sneak into town unnoticed, and Yasha once again helps them set up the main tent before going to grab Molly and herself some breakfast.

She finds her friend sprawled on the grass, fast asleep, his clothes all crumpled in an elegant mess.

She kicks him awake, and she is surprised by the warmth that thinking about the tiefling as her friend spreads in her chest.

 

Gustav asks for volunteers to go distribute flyers around Trostenwald, and Mollymauk immediately proposes both himself and Yasha, with the latter’s disappointment.

“Why, Molly?” she grumbles, hunching even more after a pair of dwarves look at her like they have seen the devil themselves.

“Because you need to get out of that place and have some fun. See the world. There is a lot of beauty out here, Yasha.”

Yasha raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond. Molly has a very different kind of opinion regarding what’s beautiful and what is not, and Yasha is not certain is even worth trying to have that kind of conversation.

Nevertheless, she trails in Molly’s path as he studies the entrance of what looks like a very old two-story building that the sign claims to be called “The Nestled Nook Inn”, and the two make their way inside.

 

***

 

Beau clears her voice, scratching the side of her shave and addressing the man who is trying to gift them with so much money.

“Sorry for being an asshole when I first got into town.” She mutters, gaining a confused look from both Fjord and Jester. She ignores them.

“I’m not used to things turning out well.”

It would be the understatement of the century, but she decides to keep that part to herself.

Next to her, Fjord sighs and nods, almost understanding.

Beau feels warmth spreading in her chest.

She is so not used to things turning out well, but in the past couple of days, it has looked almost like the universe has been trying to give her a break.

Beau can’t complain too much, after all, when she can look at either side of her and see the smiling faces of people who could almost be her friends.

She almost smiles at Jester’s happy but confused gaze, shakes her head, and focuses back on Rinaldo.

The man keeps thanking them even as he leaves, stumbling through the door and almost against a couple of newcomers.

 

***

 

With his ever graceful movements, Mollymauk starts moving from table to table, placing a couple flyers on each one, greeting the travelers with his charming voice and inviting them to see the carnival.

Yasha keeps a couple feet behind him, studying the place and the actions of his friends. She is always somehow in awe of how much Mollymauk seems to be able to fit in every kind of situation.

He is a people pleaser, whereas she is not a people person at all.

Even looking completely out of place, like a peacock in the middle of a sheep hoard, Mollymauk looks like he owns the stage. Sometimes, Yasha envies that. Many other times, she just marvels at how such a different person from her could also be her friend.

With her arms crossed, Yasha follows as Molly approaches the two furthest tables at the end of the tavern with a quite interesting group of people;  they seem to be very tense and, at the same time, very curious.

Yasha cocks her head, sighing just so when she realizes that one of them is a completely grey tiefling and another one is a girl with some different shades of grey monk clothes.

She scans the group with more attention, from the scruffy looking guy with red hair and torn clothes, to the little Halfling girl who is sitting right next to him nursing what looks like a decently sized alcoholic drink; from the orc looking guy on the far left, so tall that he could be even taller than her, to the tiefling she’s identified immediately upon entering, because she looks like she couldn’t sit still even if tied up.

Yasha meets the eyes of the last one of the group from above the mug she’s brought to her lips; that’s when it happens.

Yasha blinks. Once. Then twice.

She has to close her eyes for a couple seconds, but the feeling doesn’t leave her. She looks at the floor, trying to figure out why her vision seems so unbalanced and disconnected, and she faintly wonders if someone can get drunk without having drank at all.

It’s like a buzzing in her vision, and she shakes her head just slightly, but when she looks up, she realizes what’s wrong.

Yasha has to physically contain herself from gaping, when her eyes set on the tiefling girl who is sitting a few feet away from her.

The grey of her skin is fading, slowly, like a piece of paper slowly burning to a flame, replaced by a color that Yasha has never seen before. A color that is a bit like purple and a bit like green, but not as sharp or bright as them.

Yasha watches in awe as the tiefling’s hair waves from grey to this new color, and feels her whole being shaking in distant feelings and sensations.

This new color is like the physical manifestation of the cold air of the mornings, or the sadness she’d felt when she had left Xorhas for the first time.

It’s like the feeling of the night, but not as dark or as mysterious.

It’s like the tears she’s felt streaming down her face when she was a child, not knowing why she was crying but not hating that pain.

It’s the calm before each storm that calls her back to her God.

Yasha blinks, slowly, moving her gaze to meet a pair of eyes she has met just a few seconds ago.

To her surprise and wonder, those magnetic eyes stare back at her, as they slowly morph and shift into a beautiful, clear blue.

 

***

 

Beau is nursing her ale when the extravagant looking tiefling approaches their table. She is still unsure of how she’s gotten so much money just by being a decent human being, for once.

She vaguely sees Fjord flinching at the man.

“You okay, man?” she nudges, and Fjord nods.

“He’s just very purple.”

Beau looks back at the tiefling, almost sad that she can’t see how purple he is, but she chooses to find the hilarity in the situation, amused at how Fjord doesn’t seem to be getting used to the new color he can see.

“Well, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a group of people more in need of a good time in my entire life!”

Beau snickers into her drink, looking back at both the man and the incredibly tall woman that is walking right behind him, who is currently and not so subtly studying them.

She takes a drink, and she meets her eyes.

She is saddened to see that they appear as grey as the water, so she looks back down at her drink, before dragging a long sip out of it.

The tiefling is still chatting away about some sort of Carnival, and Beau rolls her eyes at the pomposity of it, raising her eyes to take another, closer look at the man.

And she almost falls from her chair.

She chokes slightly on her ale, gaining a side glance from the little Halfling girl on the table next to theirs, and gapes in the direction of the male tiefling.

He is… bright. He is very much bright and very much not grey anymore.

Beau’s mouth falls open, as the color that she  _ knows _ she was once able to see comes spreading all over the tiefling’s body, substituting the lifeless grey that Beau had thought she was going to see for the rest of her life.

Beauregard swallows hard, her eyes almost incapable of leaving the tiefling’s face, avid and thirsty for the softness of his purple skin.

As realization dawns on her, she blinks.

Her gaze moves, very slowly, almost fearful, to the woman that’s still standing behind the man, and their eyes meet again.

 

***

 

Yasha is confused.

She has the urge to grab Mollymauk by the arm and drag him out of the tavern, but he is still promoting their show to the group  so Yasha stays quiet.

She doesn’t move, and she lowers her gaze to study her crossed arms, noticing with wonder the outline of her own veins.

It’s almost exciting, almost incredible what she is experiencing, and her mind is brought back to the day she’d seen colors for the first time.

Like a thunder in the calmness of the clear sky, Yasha feels pain.

She feels the pain of all those memories coming back full force, memories of a painful moment that had been filled by beatings and cruelty and ignorance.

Yasha breathes in slowly, feeling as someone tries to approach her.

“Uhm, miss… Can I… get you a drink?”

Yasha opens her eyes to look down at the barmaid, who seems terrified at best, and decides that yes, whatever it’s now happening to her, she definitely needs a drink.

“Yes, can I have a drink, please?” she draws back, almost in one breath, her voice low, disconnected, passive. “Just some ale- just a big…”

Yasha can feel Molly’s eyes on her and she stirs, straightening her shoulders.

She almost imperceptibly shakes her head at him, taking a step to stand right behind him, and she glances around the table.

 

***

 

Beauregard can’t take her eyes off the other woman.

She looks at those eyes darting around the room in confusion, in fear, almost, and Beau’s heart flutters because, in complete honesty, she can’t quite believe her own ones either.

The tall woman lowers her gaze, hiding it from sight, and Beau almost stands to reach for her, to plead her to look up.

Beau feels her heart beating to a painful drum, and she does not know how much she wants to look into the other woman’s eyes, but she knows immediately that she would give all the gold she owns to see them again.

Because purple… Purple she knows.

It’s a color her adult mind had forgotten, a color that she had not been able to see for more years than she can count. But she knows the color, like the memory of a dream.

She knows that there has been a time when the flowers had that color, when the prunes would look bright and not grey, when purple was its own shade and was not blinded and obscured by the fate of another.

But the other color…

The other color is the color of the water, a green that is not green and a blue that is not blue.

A color Beau has never seen if not in her own imagination, and that even then had not been nearly as beautiful or pure as the real one.

Beau remembers her mother’s words and she can’t believe that she was right. She can’t believe that her mother had spoken the most truthful words in the land when she had said that her Soulmate was going to have beautiful eyes.

Beauregard can’t help the smile that splits her face in two, even as Jester, next to her, is about to get ripped by a fortune teller-wannabe, because yes.

Her Soulmate really does have the most beautiful eyes.

 

***

 

Yasha has no idea how this has happened, how this color has entered her vision.

But she knows one thing: if what Mollymauk has said is true, there has certainly been a mistake with her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, let me know what you think of it. I lo-lo-love feedbacks and reviews :D


	4. CHAPTER IV – I hate that you took my blue from the ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't stress this enough but... Check the taaaaaaaags before reading. Sometimes I update them.
> 
> Also, I can't tell you how excited I am every time I post a chapter: the response I've gotten from you guys has been amazing. I read and try to answer to every single comment you leave, so if I've missed yours it's probably been an accident.  
> I love you all and I am so grateful for all the love I'm getting back.  
> Shit's getting serious from now on (even more than before), so let me know what you think, especially because there's a scene I hold very dear, in this chapter. Enjoy!

CHAPTER IV – I hate that you took my blue from the ocean

 

The lavender tiefling sits with them with no care in the world and Beau watches as her Soulmate sits with him, looking like a complete statue with no emotion showing on her face.

Beau wonders, for the tenth time in less than a minute, if this newcomer has realized what had just happened.

She also notices Caleb, the filthy looking man, keeping his eyes on the extravagant tiefling, and she notices how paler his skin has gotten all of a sudden.

For an instant, Beau forgets her own discovery and bounces her gaze back and forth between Caleb and the tiefling, noticing how both of them seem to be glancing at each other every few seconds.

Beau blinks, when she realizes that the woman with two colored eyes –her  _ Soulmate _ \- has noticed the same thing.

It’s the first time Beau sees her having any sort of reaction, if the slight frown painting her features can be in any way a telling.

“My name is Mollymauk, Molly for short.” The tiefling finally introduces himself, waving then a hand towards his companion.

“And this is Yasha. She’s a charm.”

Beau feels her heart stop for what feels like an eternity, and her face splits into a gigantic grin.

“Yashaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” she exclaims, with a happiness in her voice that she hasn’t felt in ages. Years, probably.

Yasha is shaken out of her reverie and she looks up to meet everyone’s eyes and nod in recognition.

When her gaze locks into Beau’s, the girl can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine.

 

***

 

Yasha blinks and averts her gaze, feeling her heart beating up to her throat.

She’s never felt like this before, and she is not entirely sure she likes whatever the hell is going on.

This Beauregard person interests her, but also unsettles her, and it’s something that Yasha has never experienced in her life. 

Beauregard’s eyes are magnetic.

Yasha tells herself that it’s because of the intensity of a color she’s never seen before, a color that she wants to now drink in and never let go, but she feels a tingle at the back of her mind, like a voice telling her to stop bullshitting herself.

Yasha empties her drink in a couple, long, desperate sips, happy to follow Mollymauk outside the tavern when he’s finished with his fortune reading.

The moment they step through the door and out into the sun, Yasha can’t help but look up at the sky, and her heart nearly stops once again.

She remembers being able to see colors, learning what it meant to rewire her brain with a new knowledge and sensation, but this feels entirely different.

The blue of the sky is almost blinding, almost too intense to bear, and Yasha doesn’t realize she’s frozen on the spot until Mollymauk’s hand goes to rest gently on her forearm.

Yasha turns to look at her friend, and she sees unshed tears in those red eyes of his.

“You can see it, too, can’t you?” he asks, bewildered and shocked out of his mind.

Yasha blinks several times, trying to shake herself out of this stupor, and nods.

Molly’s hand squeezes her arm, and Yasha can see the happiness on his face.

“It’s amazing, Yasha!” he shout-whispers. “I honestly don’t even know how I managed to keep it together. I mean, if I have to be completely fair, I’m way too good and…”

Yasha swallows hard and starts walking toward the circus, happy for her friend but shaken and shaking after this new revelation.

Molly is quick to catch up to her, and he’s not smiling anymore.

“Yasha?”

Yasha can hear the concern in his tone, but she doesn’t stop until they’re safe in their tent, away from this overwhelming  _ blue _ .

Only then she turns and fixes her eyes in the tiefling ones. She thanks the Stormlord she has someone as close as Molly, because she realizes what kind of comfort his presence and his knowledge are giving to her.

“This must be a mistake, Mollymauk.” She says, and her voice is firm and flat. “I died. I am not even entirely mortal. I am here to serve my Stormlord. I can’t have a Soulmate.”

Molly gapes for a couple of seconds, completely taken aback by both the tone and the amount of words Yasha has just pronounced.

He tries to speak, but Yasha shakes her head.

“It must have been a consequence of you meeting your Soulmate. Let’s get ready for tonight.”

Molly wants to argue, wants to say that it doesn’t make shit sense, but Yasha’s eyes are tormented and stormy, and he doesn’t say anything.

 

***

 

“Have you always been this weird?” Fjord asks as they stroll around town trying to kill some time before the show.

Beau smirks, flinging her staff in the air with one hand and catching it with the other. She keeps glancing at Fjord, amazed by those splotches of colors that had appeared as grey the first time she’d met him, but that now look sea green and  _ beautiful _ , just like her Soulmate’s eye.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dude.”

Jester bounces up and down in excitement.

“I think that means yes, Fjord.” She squeals, laughing.

Beau laughs with her, without being able to contain her happiness.

She can’t believe that, after all these years of thinking that she would have had to die alone, she has finally found her other half. Her Soulmate.

Beau is so happy she could sing, so she does just as much, promptly followed by Jester and an already semi drunk Nott.

Caleb and Fjord exchange a look, and they follow them shaking their heads.

 

They find the carnival fairly easily, once it’s time for the show.

Both Mollymauk and Yasha are there, greeting the crowd the first, and staring down at everyone the second.

Beau’s heart skips at the sight, but she tries to play it cool, failing miserably in the attempt.

“MOLLY!” she screams, making Caleb shift uncomfortably next to her and Fjord shake his head with a smile. “Hey, Molly! We came!”

Mollymauk and Yasha turn their head, but if the tiefling seems over the moon to see them, the woman doesn’t even flinch.

No one is happy when Yasha demands to have their weapon, and Beau is included.

The staff is the only thing between herself and the danger of the monks, and she doesn’t feel safe leaving it behind.

They all try to keep their weapons on them; all but Jester, who doesn’t look all too fazed by the idea of giving her own to Yasha.

Beau is also really annoyed by this Molly tiefling guy, but she can’t decide if it’s because he seems to be actively trying to prevent her from talking directly to Yasha or something else entirely.

“Can I keep my stick?” she ends up gritting out.

Yasha finally turns to look at her, and for a moment, Beau almost forgets why she’s being so stubborn.

Almost.

 

***

 

“Well, I’ll take it, and I can just carry you to your seat.”

Mollymauk’s head whips to look at her, and Yasha internally double takes, because, uh.

That came out unexpectedly, before she could even think about it.

The whole group falls silent for a moment, before Beau’s eyes glisten with something unclear and only slightly mischievous.

“Deal.”

It’s a mess of giggling and exchanging of weapons, and Yasha is fairly confused by why Beau is being so stubborn over a  _ stick _ . It’s basically a piece of wood, a very light piece of wood, and Yasha thinks that she could break it just by holding it with two fingers.

She tries to give it a twirl and, unexpectedly, the bo staff spins out of her hands. Yasha catches it before it hits the ground, and she is grateful that Beau is completely absorbed in a muttered conversation with Fjord to notice.

Yasha knows she could walk away right there and then, but she is never been one to back out of a deal.

So she strides toward the girl with the magnetic eyes, calling her name and hating how her heart skips a beat when Beau turns to look at her, and she flings her across one shoulder.

As the group follows her laughing and Mollymauk snickers a “Such grace, such form, such dignity!” at them, Yasha sees Beau flipping the fingers at her friends, and her mouth twitches in a half smile.

 

***

 

Beauregard is honest to Ioun having the time of her life.

As she dangles from Yasha’s shoulder, watching Jester screaming her excitement at the top of her lungs, she tries to figure out how to start a conversation with Yasha.

She’s at a disadvantage, and she knows it.

She’s spent her whole life thinking that her Soulmate was dead.

When her classmates in school would play pretend, and they would imagine how to start their first conversation with their soulmates, Beau would sit back and imagine something completely different.

She would imagine what she would have said if she’d ever been able to find the grave of her Soulmate, or speak to her ghost.

Suddenly, as she hangs from the tall woman’s shoulder, Beau grimaces and thinks that, dead or not, “I’m sorry.” and “How did you die?” are not something she wants to tell Yasha  _ right now _ .

But she’s out of options. They’re quickly approaching their seats, and her window is closing fast.

Beau has noticed that Yasha is not one of many words, so she knows that it has to be her to start the conversation.

She clears her voice, but Yasha keeps walking, not showing whether she’s heard her or not.

Beau curses and prepares herself to talk, to say something, anything, when Mollymauk falls in step with Yasha.

 

***

 

The human girl doesn’t weigh a pound, and Yasha almost forgets she’s on her shoulder. She strides forward, dancing through the crowd and looking for the best spot to lead the group to, when she hears her friend’s snicker and the purple of his tail wagging, as he walks backwards to keep an eye on the group.

Or at one person specifically, Yasha thinks.

“Mollymauk?” she calls for his attention.

“Mhm?”

Molly leans closer, so that Yasha doesn’t have to shout to make herself heard.

She raises her chin and points her gaze to Jester, who’s jumping up and down around Fjord, begging him to get her some candies.

“That Jester is adorable.”

Mollymauk half laughs.

“I know. I’m highly entertained.”

Yasha nods, pensive. She is as well. She likes how uncaring of the world the girl seems, and how honest and open she tries to be. Yasha almost envies that freedom.

“I like her.” She says without thinking.

 

***

 

And Beau’s heart shatters.

Slowly, the girl closes her mouth.

She swallows whatever stupid pick up line she had come up with, and feels her body deflating under the horrifying sensation of emptiness that fills her.

She looks up to where Jester is, smiling and laughing and creating a little circus of her own, and she feels like an idiot for having thought that anyone could even think about her when someone like Jester was around.

Beau fixes her gaze to the floor, trying to keep the staggering pain that is expanding in her heart at bay.

She feels like a toddler again, and a teenager altogether.

She feels like her world has gone grey again, and she feels like she’s lost the only woman who’s ever loved her.

Beauregard almost wants to laugh, because of course.

Her father was right, after all.

She is not a person that anyone would want to love, so naturally, she is one of those few people with unrequited Soulmate’s bonding.

As they approach their seats, Beau shakes her head, and punches her feelings until they are down to her feet, keeping them down with fierce determination, and she offers Yasha to be her wingman for Jester’s heart.

She can’t help but feel things for Yasha already, but since it’s not her, she hopes that Yasha can still be happy.

 

***

 

Yasha sees immediately that something has shifted in Beau’s eyes as soon as she puts her down, and she almost wants to stop her and ask her what’s wrong.

But Beau sits and the show starts.

And everything else goes to shit.

Yasha fights for her life and for the ones of the people surrounding her, and so does everyone else in the group, until Beauregard uppercuts the zombie right in its jaw, ending what felt like one of the most surreal fights she’s ever taken part to.

And then hell gets loose, and Yasha feels a twinge of panic rising in her guts as the rest of the group gets arrested.

The feeling of chains, the memory of her freedom being taken away, the pure terror of being held against her will rise within depths of her being, and Yasha  _ runs _ .

 

They catch her, of course, but the group manages to get out of trouble fairly easily, and fling itself into another one almost immediately after.

Yasha sticks around for a while, but a storm comes raging over the city very soon, and both her and Molly know it’s time.

She leaves the group without saying goodbye, and she doesn’t look back when she does.

Yasha knows that this is her destiny. This is her call, to follow the Stormlord’s orders and deliver what the Stormlord requests.

She’s done so her whole life, and she is grateful for the second chances she’s been given.

Yasha wouldn’t dare saying no to her God, nor she wants to.

She is happy to be of service, happy to repay her debt, and she doesn’t know anything else but this life.

After she takes care of the latest matter, Yasha looks at her longsword and finds herself without a place to go.

When she was with the Carnival, she had another job, a normal one at that, and she had an excuse to go back.

But now the Carnival is gone, and the only tie that she has is to a friend.

So Yasha starts walking back, because she does not know much about the world, but she knows she owes it to Molly to go back.

And so she does.

She tracks them down quite easily, because it’s not like the group is actually managing to keep a low profile, much to Fjord’s dismay and disappointment.

Yasha tries to calm her beating heart when Jester hugs her, or when Nott offers her flowers. She tries not to react when Beauregard looks at her with pure happiness, and shoots a wink and a grin in her direction.

Yasha knows deep in her soul that Beauregard can’t be her soulmate, and based on what she sees of the girl, she’s certain that the monk is that flirtatious with every woman that crosses her path.

And yet, before she knows it, going back to the group is not an obligation anymore. After the fourth or fifth mission that the Stormlord calls her to complete, Yasha realizes in surprise that her feet start taking her back on their own.

Not because she needs to be with them, but because she  _ wants _ to.

They start taking on more and more missions themselves, both because of the people they meet and because they seem incapable of staying out of trouble.

The Stormlord sometimes keeps her away for weeks at a time, and some others leaves her be for months.

Yasha is grateful for those months of quietness, and she is happy to get to know her friends each day more.

She starts carrying around every flower Nott gifts her.

She accepts every pastry that Jester buys and saves just for her. She even accepts a drawing of the group that Jester sketches just for her, to keep her company in her travels.

She makes sure to notice and compliment every new piece of jewelry that Molly seems to acquire after each mission.

She makes friends with Frumpkin, and shares her rats with him.

She stays up late at night after the party finds out about her wings, because she’s found a new familiarity with Caleb. She still doesn’t know how she knows this language that he calls Celestial, but she is happy that someone can share something so intimate with her.

She starts sparring and training with Fjord, impressed and fascinated by his falchion and by the way the weapon moves.

Yasha tries her best to keep her distances with Beau, but she finds herself falling into Beau’s steps just to be able to hear her talking, and she takes on the watches when Beau volunteers, and her stomach twists and turns every single time Beau smiles.

Yasha’s world is now tinted in every color imaginable, and not one day goes by without her fascination for the newest addition growing.

Yasha feels herself falling, and she doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing.

Yasha asks the Stormlord for advice, but the Stormlord never answers.

 

***

 

The first time Yasha leaves, they don’t notice until the evening after.

They all assume that she’s gotten up early to run some errands, and it’s only at dinner time that Mollymauk tells them that it’s a common occurrence, with Yasha.

Beauregard nods in her food and orders another ale.

She doesn’t notice Fjord and Jester exchanging a somewhat knowing look, nor Molly and Caleb almost touching hands under the table.

Beau finishes her dinner and excuses herself to the room they’ve taken up at the inn, grateful for her new friends, but needing to be alone for a moment.

She flings herself onto the mattress and takes a deep breath.

Since everything has happened –since  _ Yasha _ has happened- Beau has not stopped a second to think about what it enticed. She hasn’t stopped to enjoy the color of the water, or the purple of the sky when the sun sets.

She sits up on the bed, and scouts her body for the newest injuries, the newest bruises, finding them fairly quickly.

She remembers informing Jester of how her ribcage had gotten more purple, and she remembers how strange it was so say that color out loud.

Now, Beau studies it with curiosity, with awe. She looks at every bruise she’s collected, tracing the pattern of it with growing wonder.

She is finally a little less broken. She finally has all her colors.

Yasha has gifted her with an immense joy, and then has left. Just like everyone else in her life.

Her fingers shake, and her breathing starts shaking as well.

All of a sudden, memories start flooding her mind.

Memories of toys she’s used, memories of a castle colored in purple, memories of earing and necklaces, memories…

A memory. Of her mother, eyes closed, arms crossed on her chest, with a beautiful vestige of a color Beau has not known for almost all her life.

The images shift in her memory and Beau can finally have a last moment with her mother, not taunted with the lifeless grey of her father’s hate, but with the favorite color of her loving parent.

Beau presses the palm of her hand against her mouth, and tries to contain a sob. The other hand flies against her chest, clawing at it in desperation. Her breathing itches, and breaks, and her whole body starts to shake.

She holds back the tears with success, but when she tries to exhale, she finds that she can’t.

The room closes in  on her and her vision blurs for a moment.

Beau presses her hand harder, trying not to scream, trying not to cry, and she doesn’t hear Jester approaching until her friend’s cool fingers grab her wrist.

“Beau.” Jester says, gently. “I need you to breathe, you dummy.”

Beau shakes her head no, and she doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say.

No, she can’t breathe. No, she doesn’t want to breathe. No, she doesn’t want her here.

But Jester stays. She sits on the bed and grabs both of her wrists with her hand, moving them away from her face and her chest.

“Can you count with me, Beau?” Jester is saying. “Can you do it for me?”

Beau nods, in fast little jerks of her head.

“Three.” Jester sing-songs. “Seven. Two. Four.”

Beau swallows and tries to say that even she knows that’s not how a person counts, but she obeys to Jester’s request and repeats the numbers.

“T-Three.” She stammers, voice even lower than usual. “Seve-en. Two. Fo-Four.”

Jester smiles and keeps counting out of order, immediately followed by Beau.

It’s frustrating what Jester is making her do, especially because if they have to count, at least Beau would like to do it the right way, but she slowly realizes that her brain is getting so focused on this annoying detail that her body has started to breathe back on its own.

Beau feels wet on her face and she realizes she’s been crying.

She looks up to meet Jester’s ever joyful eyes and she grimaces in the attempt of a smile.

“Thank you.”

Jester laughs, and hugs her.

“No problem, you dummy!”

Beau finds herself laughing with her friend, and soon the laugh turns into another sob.

She lets herself cry, this time. A steadier, painful and exhausting cry.

Jester envelops her between her arms and Beauregard cries harder.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s been held.

 

Things go relatively smoother after that night.

They reach Zadash with a couple hiccups along the road, and they fight their way to the city, collecting new injuries and new scars.

Beau fights and marvels in the way her body keeps adapting and learning to the amount of dangerous situations she finds herself in.

She keeps training with her staff and she’s only half surprised when Zeenoth catches up to her, but being surrounded by that dysfunctional group of friends gives her a bravado and a confidence a boost.

Expositor Dairon is the change that she needs to kickstart her life once again. Beauregard is not sure she wants to follow the Way of the Cobalt Soul; she doesn’t want to be tied to a system of rules, but Dairon gives her the out that she seeks, and Beauregard takes it.

For the majority of her life, she had thought her Soulmate was dead, and she had tried to find a purpose, with little to no success.

Now she knows she has a Soulmate, and although Yasha does not reciprocate that burning feeling that Beau can feel seeping through her very veins, it’s a new discovery that has brought more light to her life.

She knows she has to find her own way, and when Dairon beats her into obedience, Beau starts to think that maybe she’s only at the beginning of her journey.

 

The group settles for a name, and although every single one of them thinks it’s the dumbest ever, they all find comfort in the idea of having friends watching their backs.

 

The Mighty Nein keep growing in strength and confidence.

Beauregard finds herself discovering the horrors and the darkness of Caleb’s past, and she starts wondering how much she actually still doesn’t know about the rest of the group.

Nott starts looking at her differently after the infamous night, both with resentment and with respect. Beau figures the goblin doesn’t like her way of pressing Caleb for information, but they reach a silent understanding of some sort. They both share a desire to keep Caleb safe, both from Trent and from himself.

Beau rooms with Jester more often than not, but not her nor the tiefling ever mention her panic attacks. Beau wakes up in the middle of the night with sweat covering her face, and Jester cuddles up to her and chats the demons away until the both drift back off to sleep.

Fjord doesn’t talk much, when they walk together, but between him and her the friendship comes easy. Beauregard sees him like the brother she never had, or the son her father would have loved, but she doesn’t resent him. She loves him and appreciates his efforts to keep her in track when she’s so clearly out of it, and his silent affection shown through high fives, shoulder squeezes and soft smiles.

Beau tries to keep her interaction with Molly to a minimum. She knows they share one of the most powerful bonds, and yet none of the two actually talks about it. They never talk about how Beau is aware of Caleb’s past and wants to protect him from the world, and how Molly is the exact same bulwark of defense for Yasha.

She observes Yasha every day, flirting and trying to keep their relationship as casual as she can, but when the Aasimar spreads a pair of giant, skeletal wings from her back during one of their battles, Beau gapes, and realizes with shock that keeping herself from falling in love is definitely not going to work.

 

The group figures out pretty soon that storms are equal to Yasha disappearing into the night.

Beau begins to hate the rain.

 

***

 

Sometimes, Yasha comes back to stay, since the Stormlord is incline to let her have some sort of vacation.

Or that’s how Molly puts it, once they exchange the latest news over breakfast.

Yasha nods, absentmindedly, as her gaze follows Beauregard stomping down the stairs of the inn, messily pulling her hair in her bun.

Yasha’s fingers tingle, wanting to skim over the short of Beau’s hair, and Molly clears his voice a little too loud.

Yasha brings her attention back to her best friend, but before he can even open his mouth to talk, Yasha raises one single finger.

“Don’t.” she says.

And Molly doesn’t.

 

Yasha lowers her walls, little by little.

Her watches with Beau become more frequent, after the first night of quiet and awkward talk.

Neither of them have ever been good at words, but Yasha is happy she’s found a way to share some of her past with Beau, even if with little details. She realizes how easy it is to let little things slip past her lips just because she wants Beau to know.

She tells her how nice it feels to skim through the grass with her fingers, and whereas every other person would have let the conversation fall, Beauregard seems sincerely interested in everything she says.

“You appreciate grass?” she asks, and Yasha looks at her.

She sees a beautiful girl whose scars have rendered rough, and she sees how many of those wounds are still open and bleeding.

But what she sees in the blood of past pains is a gentle and caring soul, who’s lost too much and received too little.

Yasha falls asleep after each watch with a smile on her face, not knowing that, on the other side of the camp, Beau is doing the same.

 

They’re navigating through a swamp when it happens.

Admittedly, they should’ve paid more attention.

Admittedly, they should’ve imagined that such a beefy, horrid creature would have not survived this long in the swamp if not for some terrifying defense mechanism in place.

Admittedly, it was everyone’s and no one’s fault, but Yasha knows it, feels it in her bones that she should have done more.

She watches as Beau –brave, stubborn, dumb Beau- flings herself at the troll, trying to save a man that has been treating her like shit for the past day and a half.

The poison that springs from every wound inflicted covers Beauregard from head to toe, and before anyone can even get any closer, the girl’s body is going limp, and the troll is picking up her unconscious form.

Yasha sees red. She feels rage building in her stomach, together with a feeling she’s felt very few times in her life.

It’s not fear. She can deal with fear.

What she doesn’t know how to deal with is the pure, unbridled terror that seeps through her veins as she sees Beauregard’s body being dragged away.

“DROP. IT.” She growls, so loud and raging that the troll stumbles for a moment.

Yasha recognizes fear in its eyes, and she realizes a second too late that the creature is so scared of her that it’s trying to get away even faster, now.

Yasha freezes, not knowing what to do, her brain blurred in the knowledge that everything she does could potentially kill Beauregard.

She stands still, fury and rage and terror making her heart beat at a fastened pace, and she can only watch as Jester and Cali spring into action, healing and bringing Beau to safety.

 

That night, for the first time after many weeks, Yasha takes her watch without Beau. The group agrees at once that the monk needs to rest after her near death experience, and although Beau puts up one hell of a fight, the Mighty Nein are unmovable in their decision.

Beau goes to sleep pouting, but she falls in a deep slumber within minutes. Jester curls up next to her without a word, and Fjord almost casually drags his sleep mat on the other side of Beau.

Yasha watches the tiefling and the half orc exchanging soft goodnights over Beau’s resting body, and she feels a pang of something she can’t quite describe.

Mollymauk comes to sit right next to her, and for a moment neither of them talks.

After what feels like hours, but it’s probably just a handful of minutes, Yasha breathes out: “Beau almost died today.”

Molly maintains his gaze fixed in the darkness in front of him.

“I know.”

Yasha tightens the grip on her shawl, as one single tear rolls down her cheek.

She has destroyed a bowl made by and for the Gods, has disintegrated a sacred artifact with just one movement of a sword. She is that powerful, and yet she was powerless in every attempt to save Beauregard.

Molly doesn’t say a word, but he intertwines his fingers with Yasha’s. She squeezes his hand hard, then falls back into a tormented silence.

 

***

 

A few weeks pass, and Beau recovers completely.

She keeps fighting like she hasn’t almost died, and she throws herself head first into action.

The group never mentions what has happened, nor does Beau.

They chat and joke and drink, and they always try to keep the discussions lighthearted and fun.

It’s during one of these nights around the fire that the subject of Soulmates comes up.

In all honesty, Beau is actually surprised it has taken them that long for them to start talking about it.

Jester is describing with emphasis the story of how her mother has found her Soulmate, and how that romantic relationship has ended up with the Ruby of the Sea being pregnant of her.

Nott is listening with giant eyes and for the first time barely touching her flask, completely engrossed in the story.

“Ye don’t have Soulmates where y’come from, Nott?” asks Fjord, trying to steer the conversation away from Jester.

Beau subtly shakes her head into her ale, but doesn’t say a word.

Nott shrugs.

“Not really.” She mumbles. “But half of the goblins are born colorblind anyway, so who knows.”

“I find it very interesting, darling.” Molly interjects. “Have you ever thought that maybe all those goblins are actually waiting to find their Soulmates?”

Nott frowns, then shakes her head.

“I don’t think so.” She says. “But I am not entirely sure I like this Soulmate thing anyway.”

This time, it’s Caleb who speaks up. He looks at his friend, his expression unreadable.

“Why not?”

Nott shrugs again.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I like the idea of fate deciding who you have to love or not. One should be free to fall in love freely. But this… I don’t know if I like this.”

The group falls silent for a while.

Jester has pulled out her spiritual weapon and is nervously licking the giant lollipop, uncertain of the direction the discussion has taken.

Fjord seems impressed by Nott’s words.

Molly and Caleb are frowning, exchanging not-so-subtle glances, and Yasha is being Yasha, face stoic and no emotions showing.

Beau looks at her friends one at a time, before clearing her voice.

“Actually…” she begins.

The group’s eyes are suddenly on her, and she decides that her drink is way more interesting than any of her friends, fixing her gaze into her ale as she continues.

“Actually, there’s a story that the Monks used to tell to young novices. It narrates of the beginning of times, before the Divergence, before the Calamity and the Age of Arcanum. Right at the time of the Founding, when the Gods brought forth creatures to inhabit Exandria, gifting it with magic as well.”

Beau stops to take a sip from her drink, and she shuffles in slight discomfort in feeling all the eyes on her.

She takes a deep breath.

“The Gods created every creature, but they created them with four arms, four legs and a single head made of two faces. It is said that these creatures had great strength and power and threatened to conquer the Gods.”

Beau’s eyes lift and she finds Yasha’s, staring at her almost in a trance.

“They were perfect.”

Jester releases her spiritual weapon with a pop, and licks her lips.

“Perfect how?”

Beau averts her gaze, and she notices immediately the apple that Nott is holding. She lunges forward and snatches it out of her hands, ignoring her protests.

“Like this.” She says.

Fjord is about to speak, but Beau holds the apple above the fire.

“No flaws, no imperfection. They were whole, and they were powerful. Of course the Gods did not want to destroy what they had created, so they decided to split these creatures in half, as a punishment for their pride, and then scattered each half across time and space.”

As she speaks, Beau grabs the dagger from Molly’s hands, and cuts the apple in two. She places one half on the trunk of the tree she’s sitting on, between herself and Yasha, and she holds the other one for everyone to see.

“Since then, every half roams the worlds in a desperate search, trying to find their missing piece.”

Beau offers the half of the apple in Fjord’s direction. He looks uncertain for a moment, but then he meets her halfway with the last piece of pear he’s nibbling at. When the two halves don’t match, Beau moves on. She meets with Jester’s lollipop right after, the tiefling over eager to be part of this story.

“The monks would often say that Ioun watches over these lovers, pushing them in the right direction.”

Beau offers the apple to Nott, who touches it with part of her pocket bacon.

Beau half smiles and retreats her arms, leaning with her elbow on her knee as she shows the yellow of the apple to the rest of the group.

“That’s what Soulmates are: stubborn souls of a love that is too powerful for it to be stopped by death, and they keep searching for each other in every life, and in every life they find a way to rejoin with their missing half.”

As silence falls on the group, Yasha slowly reaches forward.

They all watch as the Aasimar grabs the other half of the apple and places it right against the one Beau is still holding.

Beau’s heart jumps in her throat, and her eyes go wide.

Fjord tilts his head in Beau’s direction, Jester sucks at her lollipop with giant, dreamy eyes.

Nott crawls to curl up in Caleb’s lap, and Yasha simply can’t take her eyes off of Beauregard.

“Well.” Molly says with a half laugh. “That’s probably the only nice thing I’ve ever heard you say, Beau.”

His words seem to send a shockwave through the group.

Caleb smiles, and Fjord, Jester and Nott giggle or quietly laugh.

Even Yasha sends and amused glance toward Molly, bringing the half apple to her lips and taking a bite.

Beau, although, freezes.

Her body goes rigid, as she lifts her eyes to see the group quietly and softly laughing.

She looks at Yasha smiling at Molly and shaking her head, and Beau’s blood goes cold.

All of a sudden, she’s in the scholar’s house again, and the kids around her are laughing at her purple castle.

Humiliation washes over her, and Beau feels like an idiot for having shown such vulnerability. For having dared to  _ hope _ .

She is standing before she realizes what is happening, before the tears in her eyes start falling.

“Well, that can be easily fixed, asshole.” She spits in Molly’s direction, before stomping across the fire and away from the camp.

She faintly hears the group holding their breath in surprise, but she doesn’t stop, and she keeps walking until darkness swallows her.

She throws the apple she’s still holding against the nearest tree, and only then she allows herself to sniff away the tears, and she crouches on the ground with her knees tight to her chest.

She doesn’t move until Nott’s hand closes gently around hers and murmurs: “Jester put you and me on first watch.”

Beau nods and shots a grin in the goblin’s direction.

“Alright, Nott. Betcha you’ll fall asleep first.”

Nott snorts and trots back to the campfire, where everyone else is already falling asleep.

“You wish.”

 

***

 

In her bedroll, Yasha listens to Nott and Beau bantering about how healthy pocket bacon is, and she falls asleep with her half of the apple tucked against her chest.

 

***

 

When the morning comes, the grass is wet, and Yasha is gone.

The group doesn’t comment on it, nor on anything that has happened the night before, but Molly makes sure to fill Beau’s breakfast plate with double the food.

Beau doesn’t say anything, and just nods awkwardly toward Molly in a quiet understanding.

They resume their traveling back toward Zadash, where the Gentleman has requested their service once again, and they chat lazily along the road.

They are always at an impasse when Yasha leaves: they need to carry on with their lives and complete their missions, but it also feels wrong to do so when they’re missing a part of their group.

Their walk towards the city is slow and unenthusiastic, and they reach Zadash when the sun is high in the sky and the hour is close to noon, after three more days of slow pace walking.

They encounter trouble right as they step into the city, when a group of bandits crashes against their cart in the effort of running away towards the outskirts of Zadash.

Fjord and Beau, at the head of the line, are quick to spring into action.

The half orc evokes his falchion in a split second, bringing it down against the short sword of one of the bandits.

The remaining two throw themselves at Beau, who rotates her staff so quickly and so swiftly that the men barely see it moving.

Beau knocks the first of them unconscious with a blow to the head, then ducks and swipes the earth from the second’s feet.

As the bandit falls on his back with a loud curse to the sky, Beau plants the tip of her bo deep on his chest, knocking the wind off of him long enough for Nott to catch up with them and punch the man hard on his nose.

He passes out immediately, and Beau can’t help the grin that splits her features.

“That was one hell of a blow, Nott.” She laughs, high fiving the little goblin girl.

Nott smiles and trots back toward the group, where Fjord has started to tie up the bandit and where Molly is already talking to some town folks for a reward.

Beau is about to join the group when a hooded figure steps in front of her, cutting her way off.

Before she can react, the man lifts the hood of the cloak off his face, and Beau’s heart stops for a brief moment.

“ _Papa?_ "

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that during last night's Talks Machina, Matt has confirmed that, all in all, the group has been together for like a month. My timeline is a little more extended than that, cause I honestly figured they had been together for longer. So just, yenno, keep that in mind ;)


	5. CHAPTER V – Give me back green greens and goldens, my purples, my blues, you stole them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan real bad, friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daily reminder to read the taaaaaaaags, thanks.
> 
> Also, read the note at the end of the chapter. This one was a trip to write, I swear to Ioun. As usual, don't forget to leave a comment and lemme know what you think!

CHAPTER V – Give me back green greens and goldens, my purples, my blues, you stole them

 

Yasha hears the rumble of the oncoming storm as she is sitting down for her watch. Mollymauk is still disentangling himself from his bedroll, but Yasha already has her bag on her shoulder.

She waits for Molly to stand, before nodding in his direction and taking off.

Yasha doesn’t look back, not even once, until she’s put several miles between herself and the group. Only then she allows her gaze to wander off in the distant horizon, but all she sees is darkness.

She slides a hand into her pocket, right where the half apple is, still wet and soft and probably almost completely brown. With a grimace that has nothing to do with the consistency of the fruit, Yasha grabs it and then throws it into the nothingness as hard as she can.

Her heart flinches in a painful squeeze, but Yasha ignores the regret and resumes her walk back to Xorhas.

 

She fights off with little to no effort a couple bandits along the road, and in exchange for their freedom, they let her keep one of the horses.

The animal is a Shire, and is clearly stolen, but Yasha pets his long mane and mounts him with a smile.

There are not many horses that are comfortable being around her, considering how tall and demon looking she is, but this creature seems to be completely unfazed by the Aasimar staring in his bright green eyes.

Thanks to the horse, she makes it back into Xorhas in half of the time, and once she’s there, she realizes she has no idea what she’s supposed to do.

Yasha visits the outskirts of the city, scouting for any suspicious activity, but everything seems calm and quiet, for as much as Xorhas can be either quiet or calm.

Yasha makes her way into the neighborhood she used to live in, knowing that the Stormlord has requested her presence in Xorhas for a reason.

She trusts her God to have a mission for her and keeps walking, finding herself at the market.

Yasha buys food for herself and the horse, looking around to see both familiar and new faces in the crowd. Some of the women at the fruit stand wave at her with a soft smile, and Yasha nods in response.

It’s weird to be back in Xorhas in the daylight.

She thinks back on what Beau had asked several nights ago, and she admits to herself that she hadn’t lied when she’s answered that Xorhas will always have that “this is home” feeling. But at the same time, as she thinks of Beau and at the way she’d chuckled after blowing the air into the emptiness, at the way their breaths had mingled as they were quietly talking the night away. She also admits to herself that home can be a group of people, too.

Xorhas was the home of the past, but Yasha knows where she wants to spend her future.

It’s the first time that her thoughts have wandered into that direction, into desiring something for herself, for her own life outside of the constant missions, and she’s taken aback by it.

She stumbles against a man walking in the opposite direction, quietly apologizes, and tightens her grip on the horse’s mane.

Suddenly, the market is too full, too open, and Yasha is overwhelmed.

She makes her way through the crowd, managing to reach one of the side streets that bring to the outer levels of the city, and walks without minding where she’s going.

Only after she stops at a corner that her mind recognizes, does Yasha notice where her feet have taken her.

A soft stomping behind her tells her that the horse has followed her in her escape, and Yasha is grateful for the animal’s company. As she pets the horse’s head, she finds herself missing Frumpkin and his quiet purring.

Yasha sighs. She has nothing better to do.

Slowly, she approaches the door she’s seen so many times under a different light, and knocks once.

It takes a solid minute before any sound can be heard from behind it, but then the door opens wide, and Yasha stares down at the woman she’s worked and slept with, a woman she thought she had loved for a while.

The woman stares back for what feels like an eternity, then steps forward and hugs her with a bellowing laugh.

“You big, tall, piece of shit.”

Yasha nods with a smile. She hasn’t changed much.

“Hello to you, too.”

The woman invites her in, and Yasha can’t recognize the feeling she gets at the bottom of her stomach, but she doesn’t think it’s a pleasant one.

 

***

 

Beauregard clenches her fists on the staff, and if she didn’t know her bo was sturdy enough, she would have worried about breaking it.

Her father stands in front of her like he’s just seen a ghost, and Beau is fairly certain her expression is very similar.

A few feet away, she can distinguish the figures of her friends starting to approach, and all of a sudden breathing becomes much harder.

“Nice to see you.” She grits between her teeth, moving to walk past her father.

She manages to take just one step before he stumbles in her path once again.

“Beauregard, please.” He stammers. “I haven’t seen you in years, I thought you were dead.”

Beau doesn’t even think about her friends anymore, and her head turns to fire a murderous glance toward her father.

“And whose fault is that,  _ Papa _ ?” she hisses.

She barely hears Nott holding her breath, and she decides that she doesn’t care anymore.

More townsfolks approach, curious about whatever is going on with these newcomers.

Beau’s father seems to notice them as well, and glances around with a nervousness that Beau has never seen him wearing.

“Please, Beauregard. I just… I just want to talk.”

Beau takes a look at him.

He’s not the man she’d seen for the first fourteen years of her life, nor the man she’d seen at the monastery almost seven years ago.

He is a ghost of the man he used to be. None of the wealth he once possessed is recognizable on any of his clothes.

He is dirty, and tired, and  _ old _ .

Beauregard almost doesn’t recognize the man in front of her; she finds it ironic that the ugliness of his behavior is now showing in his physicality.

“Talk?”

Her father nods, lowering his eyes, not noticing the Mighty Nein slowly stepping around them to keep the townsfolk out of earing distance.

Beau does notice, and for the millionth time she appreciates the family who has had her back more than her own blood ever did.

“I’m sorry, Beauregard.”

Beau snorts.

She snorts and then throws her head back in a full bellied laugh.

“Sorry? You’re  _ sorry _ , Papa?” she chuckles, with no amusement in her tone. Jester moves, uncomfortable, a few steps away from her. She has never heard that kind of coldness from Beau, and Beau knows it.

“What are you sorry for, exactly?”

Her father looks up to meet her eyes, and opens his mouth to answer. Before he can even say one word, Beau starts talking, her voice raising in volume and fury with every sentence.

“Are you sorry for abandoning me at a monastery the day after my mother died? Are you sorry for dressing the only person who’s ever loved me in the only color I was never able to see for her funeral?”

Her father takes half a step back, his jaw falling slightly open.

“Are you sorry for hating me, your whole life, since the day I was born? Are you sorry for withholding from me the love of a father?”

Beau plants her staff on the ground with such force that the bo shakes.

Her breathing becomes ragged and unsteady, and her whole body vibrates in rage, the same kind of rage she only allows out during fights.

“Or maybe you’re sorry for telling me that no man would have ever loved me?”

Beau takes a half step toward her father, towering over his frozen frame.

She’s never been extremely tall, and she’s realized what being tall really means since she’s started to travel with titans like Fjord, Yasha and Mollymauk, but she is as tall as her father now, and it’s almost addicting.

“You know what you can do with your apologies?” she growls, low and furious, her anger bubbling up from the pit of her stomach, black and roaring, like nothing she’s ever felt.

“You can stick ‘em up your sorry ass, and push them as far as you fucking can.”

Someone audibly holds their breath, but no one can prevent the slap from landing, hard and fast, on Beau’s face.

Her head folds to one side, a few strand of hair coming loose from her bun, and Beau widens her eyes in pain, anger and embarrassment.

She feels like a kid again, as she slowly turns to look back at her father, with his hand still in the air, pointing one finger at her.

“I am still your father, young lady.” He hisses, his face distorted in anger and pain. “I thought that your mother had taught you respect, but I can see you have none for-“

Beauregard is lunging forward before she can even realize she’s attacking; something stops her from physically assaulting her own father, but nothing stops the words full of hate that she spits into the man’s pale face.

“DON’T YOU DARE MENTION HER IN FRONT OF ME EVER AGAIN.”

Beau is dragged backwards, away from her father, and she recognizes blue arms holding her waist.

Only then she realizes that Jester must’ve held her back from beating the life out of her only living parent. Even being one of the strongest members of their group, Beau can hear the struggle in Jester’s voice, when she starts whispering into her ear: “Beau, it’s okay. We got you, Beau. You need to calm down.”

Beau’s father points a shaking finger at her.

“Please, Beauregard. Listen to the tiefling.”

Beau tries to shrug away from Jester’s grip, her blood boiling with rage.

“The tiefling has a  _ name _ !” she growls, and stomps her feet on the ground, trying to figure out how to get away from Jester without hurting her. She feels tears in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall.

“I’m just saying…”

“An’ what she’s sayin’, sir, is pretty fucken’ clear to us all.”

Beau’s body freezes and tenses, and she stops fighting.

As one, Fjord, Molly and Caleb step forward to create a human barrier between Beauregard and her own father.

“I have to agree with my friend Fjord, here.” Mollymauk interjects, with a suave voice that drips venom from every word.

“I also think,  _ sir _ …” Caleb murmurs, crossed arms and head low, “That you were completely, absolutely wrong, when you told your daughter that no man would ever love her.”

Beau is frozen in place, her blue eyes wide and her mouth agape.

She can’t believe her eyes nor her ears and she has no idea how she should react to what she’s witnessing.

Molly chuckles, and although Beau can only see the backs of her three friends, she knows his red eyes are glowing in anger.

“My darling, here, is very much right.” He says.

Fjord scratches his chin, almost distractedly, and continues: “’Cause y’see, maybe a lesser man like you hasn’t been able to love Beau right. But she has the love of three men-“

Frumpkin pops up on Caleb’s shoulder, his back arched and his teeth out. He hisses at the terrified man in front of them.

“Four men. Sorry, bud.” Fjord corrects with a grin. “Beauregard has men in her life who are not afraid to love her the way she deserves. Not that she needs our love to be the motherfuckin’ gangsta that she is.”

Beau hiccups a sob, and digs her nails so deep in Jester’s arm that she draws blood. Jester doesn’t let her go.

Bouncing on her tiny feet, Kiri toddles forward, waving her dagger in the man’s direction, and no one makes a move to stop her.

“I kill people!” She shrieks, her eyes sending sparkles. “ _ Fuck _ !”

Nott walks up from behind them all, marching straight under Beau’s father’s nose, who flinches and looks down in terror.

“And she might be a fucking pain in the ass…” Nott squeaks, and Beau can swear she’s never heard the little girl sound so angry.

“But she’s  _ our _ fucking pain in the ass.” Mollymauk concludes, and his voice has dropped any form of colloquialism, now sounding completely and one hundred percent murderous.

Caleb, next to him, places one hand on the small of his back, and keeps it there as he opens his other palms and evokes a ball of fire.

“You might wanna go now.” He says. “ _ Ja _ ?”

They don’t need to add anything more, because the man almost falls, stumbling over his own cloak, in the attempt to run away from the group as quick as he can.

Jester’s grip loosens just slightly, but Beau can’t move.

She watches as the tension leaves the shoulders of the men in front of her, watches as they all turn around to shoot her a mix of guilty, concerned and worried glances.

They slowly walk back to her, and Jester finally lets her go.

“That was so fucking cool, you guys.” She laughs.

Beau blinks in her direction, and Jester smiles at her, softly and gently, raising one hand to move the few strands of hair out of the monk’s face.

“We got you, Beau.” Jester says, resting the palm of her hand of Beau’s face. “We always got you.”

Beau’s breath hitches in her throat, and the girl hiccups, then sniffles, and finally lets out a badly contained sob.

Another warm hand comes to rest on the back of her neck.

“Are you okay, darling?” Molly asks.

And Beau shakes her head.

Tired of lying, tired of pretending that she’s okay, Beau shakes her head.

And the tears start rolling down so fast, she can barely register what’s happening.

Jester drags her closer to herself once again, and the group closes in on them.

Nott wraps her tiny arms around Beau’s left calf, Kiri around her right one, Fjord presses his front against Beau’s back, and Molly and Caleb place their hands on each side of Beau’s shoulders.

Beau’s head falls on Jester’s chest, her whole body wrecked by sobs.

Jester gently kisses her hair and smiles.

“We got you, you dummy.” She says. “We love you.”

“We love you.” Echoes Kiri for them all. “We love you.”

 

***

 

Yasha nurses her ale, her feet half propped up on the kitchen stool, and her heterochromatic eyes never leaving her old friend’s face.

“You never said goodbye.”

Yasha shrugs, drawing a long sip from her mug.

“Never been good with that sorta thing.” She answers, unapologetic.

Her friend nods with a grin, and Yasha can’t help being pleased to see that she has never hated her for leaving without a word.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours. Yasha finally averts her gaze from the woman’s face and lets it roam around the house.

Very few times she has seen that place during the day, being in her friend’s living quarters only for night activities, and even then she had not realized how many of the woman’s possessions were actually  _ blue _ .

She almost smiles at the sight of a plant, sitting by the window, that has the same color of a cloudless sky.

“You look different.”

Yasha’s attention shoots back to her friend. Her eyebrow raises interrogatively.

The woman shrugs.

“I don’t know how to explain it, Yasha.” She says. “When I knew you, it was like you were only surviving through life. There’s a light in you I have never seen before.”

Yasha moves, uncomfortable, on the stool. She plants her feet on the ground and shrugs again.

The woman seems to sense her discomfort, and clears her throat.

“So, what have you been up to?”

Yasha’s chest loosens up, and she allows herself to smile.

“I’ve traveled a bit. Met some people.”

The woman opens her arms with a laugh.

“Please, do tell.”

And Yasha does. She tells her about the Mighty Nein, about Caleb and his powers, about Molly and his jewels, about Nott and her thefts, about Jester and her pastries, about Fjord and his beautiful falchion, about Frumpkin and his purring, about Beau and her spontaneity. Or her lack of any kind of filter, really.   
Yasha doesn’t even notice the soft smile that escape her lips at the thought.

When her friend shares her curiosity about them, Yasha suddenly remembers the drawing Jester has sketched for her.

She fishes the journal Molly had gifted her from the worn out bag Fjord had fixed for her, and opens it. Between the flowers Nott has picked up for her, Yasha finds the portrait.

She pushes it on the table and points at every single one of her friends.

The woman nods, lost in thought, tracing the pattern of every face with careful fingers.

“How long have you been travelling with them?” she finally asks.

“Eight, nine months?” Yasha says, shrugging, as she falls back on her stool and takes a sip of her drink.

“Mhm.” The woman nods. “And how long have you been in love with the monk?”

Yasha chokes.

She has always prided herself in being someone that is very hard to catch by surprise, but the ale she’s drinking goes down the wrong pipe, and Yasha starts coughing.

“I’m not in love with Beau.” She almost squeals.

Her heart is beating fast in her chest, and Yasha can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad thing. She also feels very hot, all of a sudden, and she can’t figure out why.

Her friend raises both eyebrows and purses her lips.

“No, huh?”

Yasha takes another long drink, shaking her head.

“Absolutely not.”

Her friend raises her hands.

“My bad.” She says. “In that case, you  _ must _ introduce her to me. She looks pretty fucking hot.”

Yasha swallows the ale, lowering the mug slowly on the table.

“Introduce you?” she repeats, as a weird, unknown and uncomfortable feeling makes way through her stomach and up to her chest.

The woman nods, with a grin that comes to split her face.

“Well, yes. Unless she’s not into women, of course.”

Yasha clenches her jaw, her grip on the mug getting tighter.

“She is.”

Her friend claps her hands.

“Well, then. It’s perfect.” She says. “You and I had great sex in the past, but I feel like she could be a lot of fun as well.”

The mug  _ explodes _ in Yasha’s hand.

A couple splinters of wood impale themselves into her palm, but Yasha barely flinches at the sharp pain.

Her breath is heavy and fast, and as she raises her eyes on her friend, she realizes she’s just been played.

“Not in love with her, huh?” her friend repeats, getting up to grab a cloth, throwing it then to Yasha.

As she starts to clean the table from the remains of the ale and the mug, Yasha takes a few calming breaths.

“It’s complicated.”

Her friend, who seems unfazed by the fact that one of her wooden mugs has just been destroyed by one jealous Aasimar, sits back on her stool.

“It doesn’t have to be.” She says gently.

Yasha shakes her head, getting up to throw the rug in the basket with the other dirty kitchen cloths.

“I am tied to the Stormlord, and I can’t allow myself the luxury of love.”

The woman groans.

“The Stormlord. Right.” She mutters. “You used to say that when you were working with me, too.”

For a reason unknown to her, Yasha feels herself getting defensive.

“And?”

“And…” her friend continues. “What is the difference for you to be saved from the chains of your childhood, only to be obeying a somewhat nicer slave master?”

Yasha rebels at the idea.

“I am not a slave of the Stormlord.” She growls.

Her friend looks at her with a sad smile.

“Then shouldn’t you be free to live and love whomever you please?”

Yasha looks at the splinters in her hand, and she doesn’t know how to answer.

 

She leaves her friend’s house after a couple more hours of light conversation and heavier ale with the promise of going back the day after.

“And if you decide to leave before then, don’t you dare leaving without saying goodbye.” Her friend says with faux annoyance on her face.

Yasha shakes her head, amused by her friend’s antics, and bumps into a passerby as she tries to figure out what she should do next.

Apologizing to the man, she is quickly distracted by the soft neigh of a horse.

The shire she has obtained from the bandits is trotting toward her and Yasha can’t help but feel happy that the animal is liking her so much.

She threads her fingers through his beautiful yet dirty mane, and she decides to go spend some money on him.

The Stormlord is silent, and Yasha still doesn’t know why she has been called back to Xorhas, so she figures that taking her horse to a stable can be a good and safe way to kill some time.

_ Her _ horse.

She’s never had a pet, and she doesn’t know what the procedure is, but she knows that people with animals generally try to give them a name, just like the Mighty Nein have done with WC, or like Caleb has done with Frumpkin.

She finds a farrier not too far from the market, and she agrees to pay two golds for him to take care of both the animal’s hooves and have him do a general medical check.

As she prepares to leave the horse in the hands of the farrier for the next couple of hours, the man calls her back.

“What is his name?” he asks, pointing at the animal.

“Horse.” Yasha blurts out, without thinking.

The farrier cocks one eyebrow.

“The horse’s name is… Horse?”

Yasha nods, then scurries away.

 

Yasha walks around the now closing market, grateful that the crowd has subsided and that the amount of people roaming the streets has visibly lessened.

She peaks into various stands, noticing a couple books that she  _ knows  _ Caleb would stop to look at and Nott would try to steal for him.

She buys pastries as she walks and considers bringing back a couple for Jester and Molly to try.

She stops to listen to a couple men bantering about ale’s quality and it takes her a moment to realize that they have caught her attention because their accent remind her of Fjord’s drawl.

She misses them. She has been away for a few days and she already misses them.

As she approaches a tailor’s stand, she thinks back of what her friend has said a few hours ago, and she sighs.

Yasha trusts the Stormlord and she is grateful for what the Stormlord has done for her, but now she wonders if there is more to her life.

Distractedly, she feels the softness of one of the ribbons, colored in a beautiful and bright blue.

“That’s only five copper”

Yasha flinches at the tailor’s voice.

The woman is smiling at her, and Yasha realizes she must have been staring at that ribbon for a while now.

“I just… I didn’t…” she stutters, unsure to what she even  _ wants _ to say. “It just reminds me of someone.”

She definitely did not want to say  _ that _ . Not out loud, not to a complete stranger.

But the tailor keeps smiling at her as she bends to grab the ribbon from Yasha’s hands.

“Well, in that case, you need to have it.” She says, folding it neatly and placing it in Yasha’s still extended hand.

Yasha looks at the ribbon, then at the tailor, and then fumbles to reach for her coin sack.

The woman clasps her hands together and smiles.

“Please, don’t.” she says, and Yasha looks back up at her. “It’s the least I can do.”

Yasha frowns, her hand closing over the blue ribbon.

The tailor bobs her head, and Yasha has to strain her ear to hear what she says next.

“I was just a girl without a future, working as a slave, until an angel sent from the Stormlord freed me and gave me back my life.”

Yasha’s fist clenches on the ribbon, and her heart squeezes painfully.

The woman looks back up, and Yasha sees a familiar fear, a familiar past behind green irises.

She doesn’t know what to say, so she nods.

The woman sighs in relief and gratitude, smiling with light heart and gentleness. She points at Yasha’s fist.

“Whoever they are, they are very lucky to have your love.”

Yasha nods again, awkward and uncomfortable, before pocketing the ribbon and turning her back to the tailor’s stand, walking away.

 

Yasha collects her horse – _ her _ horse- from the farrier two hours after, and Horse looks way too cheerful to see her for an animal who’s just met her.

Yasha doesn’t even want to know what those bandits must’ve done to him.

She thanks the farrier, tipping him one more gold for a job well done, and she leads Horse to the inn she’s found.

She has a hard time falling asleep. The room is empty, and quiet. Way too quiet now that she’s used to Jester’s babbling and Beau’s scruffy answers, to Nott’s soft snoring and Caleb’s whispering, to Fjord’s reassuring presence and to Molly’s gentle goodnight kisses on her forehead.

She tosses and turns, uneasy, and when the sun rises over a red sky, Yasha throws her blankets on the floor, unrested and antsy.

She feels like time is tickling by slow and meaningless, she does not know what to do with herself and the Stormlord doesn’t seem to be voicing any desire for her to act.

Yasha is frustrated.

She wants to go back to Zadash, reunite with her group.

No mission has ever been like this one, and Yasha wonders if she’s done something to upset the Stormlord.

Yasha stops at the stables of the inn to greet Horse, but when she walks again under the sun, she sighs in defeat as nothing out of the ordinary seem to be happening.

She starts walking toward her friend’s house, hoping to find some way to pass the time with her.

Slow and steady, Yasha makes her way on familiar paths, trying to elongate the walk as much as possible, not looking forward to having more than one day without having anything to do.

It’s been a few years since last time she’s had to just sit back and wait, and she realizes she has lost her touch.

She shakes her head, trying to scroll away any thought about the Mighty Nein or one specific member of the party as she raises one hand to knock at her friend’s house.

The door creaks open before Yasha even touches it.

Immediately, her senses sharpen and her attention snaps back onto what is in front of her, everything else forgotten.

She knows her friend enough to see the unlocked door as a sign of danger, and she grabs her great sword, holding in front of her.

Yasha enters the house, alarmed by the absence of sounds of any kind, and stealthily makes her way toward the dining area.

And there, in the middle of what looks like a war zone, her only friend lies, with her throat slit, in a puddle of her own blood.

Yasha freezes on the spot, her stomach turning inside her body, as her brain slowly catches up with what her eyes are seeing.

The woman who had laughed with her for so many nights, who had held her and who had shown her what good physical human contact felt like for the first time in her life, is dead, eyes wide and spent, staring at the ceiling.

Yasha feels a wave of nausea washing over her, but she pushes it down when she hears, faintly, slow steps approaching.

She forces her eyes away from the body of her friend, and meets the ones of a tall man, black dressed, holding a knife that is still dripping freshly shed blood on the floor tiles.

Yasha’s stomach somersaults, as she recognizes in him the man she’d bumped into the day before, first at the market and then, a few hours later, outside of that same house.

Yasha curses herself for not paying attention, for being distracted, for not realizing what was going on.

“You are going to die.” She hisses, and she feels the rage bubbling up in her chest, together with pain and loss and guilt.

The man smiles.

He is young. He can’t be much older than her, and he has a face that Yasha finds familiar, but she can’t bring herself to remember why. He is poorly dressed, but the dagger he still holds is neatly decorated, elegant, and beautiful.

“Probably.” The man says, completely unfazed. “But I’m taking you with me.”

Yasha clenches her fists on the great sword, stepping closer.

“Who are you?”

The man pulls a wet cloth from his cloak and starts cleaning the blade of the dagger, calm and collected, like he is not standing in a pool of blood coming out of a person he’s just murdered.

“My name is not important.” He says. “But my father’s… Surely you knew his.”

And Yasha doesn’t need to hear the name to understand why the man seems so familiar to her.

She remembers faces, and more blood, and dust, and whips, and tortures, and rapes, and pain.

“Your father was a slave master.” She grits her teeth in anger, her breathing labored and her heart beating fast.

For the first time, the man’s face scrunches up in distaste.

“He was a good man.”

Yasha’s expression mirrors his, but for a completely different reason.

“He was an animal.” She spits, stepping even closer. “He violated young girls on a daily basis.”

He doesn’t move as she approaches, and Yasha feels a deep, violent desire for killing, for spilling this man’s blood all over the floor, to cover the one of her old friend…

“My father made mistakes, but he-“

“ _ Mistakes _ ?” Yasha roars, holding the sword with so much force that the blade shakes. “Raping girls is not just a  _ mistake _ . It’s intentional, and disgusting, and wrong, and despicable. And you are no better than him for justifying him.”

As she speaks, Yasha can see how her words are lost on this man, how nothing she says seem to affect his impassive demeanor.

“You are the reason I’m here.” She realizes out loud, cursing herself for having doubted the Stormlord.

Thinking that she had defeated the evil and erased the history of the slave trade had been naïve and Yasha can’t believe she ever thought this job would one day be over.

The man smiles and ducks his head.

“It has been so easy to follow you, once you stepped through the gates of the city.” He says, sounding so happy and cheerful. “You never realized I was there. Always lost in thoughts, always thinking about something else. About someone else.”

Suddenly, Yasha feels the weight of the ribbon in her right pocket, and her breath itches.

The man notices.

“Ah, yes. There is definitely someone. It saddens me to know that I won’t be there to see your face as this person dies.”

The nausea comes back full force, threatening to overtake her, as Yasha listens to the insanity the man is saying.

“Because they will die. It’s a certainty.” He points to the body on the floor between them, the only thing separating them. “As you can see, you can only bring death and pain in your path, my dear Yasha.”

Yasha doesn’t know if it’s the threat that does it. If it’s the accusation. If it’s the mention of her old friend. If it’s the way he says her name, the fact that he says her name.

She lunges forward, driving her great sword straight up into the man’s chest, tearing his diaphragm and lungs, pushing it until the tip of her blade exits from the opposite side of his body.

“I told you you were going to die.” She growls, taking pleasure in the pain, in the sight of his blood blurting out of his mouth, dripping down his chin.

“And… I told you…” he whispers, his life leaving him as fast as his quickened breathing. “That I was going to take you… with me…”

As he dies, his words choked on his own blood, Yasha feels a staggering pain expanding from her left hip and spreading up to the whole side of her body.

She pushes the man away from her, and together with the sound of flesh sliding against blade, she  _ feels _ the cold dagger leaving her own body.

Numbly, she reaches for the wound, and when she looks at her fingers, she sees blood. Her own blood.

She drops to one knee, grasping for the dagger, and she brings it to her face.

The pungent smell of poison hits her nostrils, and in that moment, her head splits in two in pain.

She doubles over, trying to figure out how to push the pain away, how to clear her mind from the clouds that are starting to obscure her rational thinking.

She knows the poison. She knows it because the slave masters were keen users of it. She knows there is no cure, but what she doesn’t know is how it acts.

Yasha doesn’t know why her head is hurting even more than the stab wound.

She grits her teeth, hissing through them to try and regain control of her shaking body.

Finally, when the pain fades and Yasha manages to open her eyes again, the world takes a second to get back in focus.

And then, her heart stops.

She can’t see colors anymore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T MURDER ME YET! Just wait. :D
> 
> Do you like what you're reading? Hey, thanks. I like writing, too.  
> If you wanna show your appreciation, you can buy me a coffee on ko-fi.com/lexalivesinus and drop a line (or a prompt) and I'll do my best to pay back that coffee with my art and my passion :)


	6. CHAPTER VI – I used to paint such vibrant dreams, now I’m colorblind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much your comments in the last few chapters (the last one especially) have made me happy. So please, keep leaving them.  
> Hopefully this won't disappoint and well, remember, there's still quite a way to go.

CHAPTER VI – I used to paint such vibrant dreams, now I’m colorblind

 

The mission the Gentleman has set them on looks simpler than what it actually turns out to be, so when the shit hits the fan, no one is adequately prepared.

Beau does her best to fight off the group of Gnolls that seems so keen to murder every single one of them, but the headache that has started to pound in her brain as a consequence of her little run in with her father is quite distracting.

The Mighty Nein are tired and still fazed by what they had witnessed a few hours earlier, and they are probably lucky none of them are dead.

Caleb is sending off fire blasts in every direction, his face a stoic mask even as his left arm drips blood on the rocky ground of the cave.

Nott is running left and right, her crossbow in one hand and the flask of liquor in the other. Her trusted mask is shattered on the floor right at the entrance of the tunnel.

Fjord has found another sword and he is fighting three Gnolls at the same time. Jester’s duplicate, back to back with him, is fighting two more, as the real one tries to heal an unconscious Mollymauk a few feet behind them.

Kiri is slashing her little dagger left at the best of her reach, and she’s more of a liability than a real help, because the group is worried sick that something is going to happen to her if they don’t pay enough attention.

Beau is tired, her limbs are sore and her mind is exhausted from the emotions of the day, so when one of the three Gnolls she’s fighting avoids her blow, she lets out a surprised curse.

The Gnoll closes its claws around her neck, pinning her against the wall of the cave. Beau groans in pain when her bare skin hits the rocks.

A few feet away, she can see Jester’s giant lollipop beating the shit out of a huge Gnoll, and she tries to call out for help, but her voice comes out strangled.

Using her last amount of energy, she pushes her feet against the Gnoll’s chest, keeping the creature’s strong jaws away from her face.

Sweat drips down her temple and to her chin, mixed with blood and saliva.

The wall shakes briefly, and as she glances on her left, she sees Caleb pinned in a similar position by another, smaller Gnoll. The wizard looks even more exhausted than her, and Beau realizes no one is going to help them.

She knows this is the end.

She feels warmth on her hand, and as her brain starts to lose consciousness for the lack of oxygen, Beau realizes that warmth is Caleb’s fingers intertwining with hers.

“B-Beau…” he pants, as he uses his other injured hand to fend off his own monster. “Do you… Trust me?”

Beau would like to kick his ass for the shit ass timing of his questions, but she doesn’t have enough breath to even insult him.

As her body starts to convulse and dots begin to fill her vision, she uses her last puff of air to breathe out: “Yeah.”

Beau is not sure what exactly happens after.

She only knows that the world disappears in front of her eyes, and when she sees again, she knows she’s dead.

 

***

 

Yasha drags herself back to the Inn, barely managing to grab her few belongings. People on the street see her, pale and furious and terrible, and they open the path in front of her.

Just outside the stables, Yasha collapses onto a wall, the hand that’s not pressing on her stab wound running up to cover her eyes.

Her head pounds, not as painful as it had in her friend’s house, but Yasha cannot tell anymore what hurts the most; her wound, her brain, or her chest.

She feels tears prickling at the edge of her eyes, and all she can think is Beau. Beauregard, her Soulmate, the reason she was able to see colors in the first place.

Yasha opens her eyes again and her vision blurs. Colors come back full force into her world, with a blast, like the first time they ever did.   
Then, her vision buzzes, blurries, and her colors pale. They fade to an almost grey-ish shade, before coming back once again.

Yasha doesn’t know what’s happening. She only knows that somewhere, most likely in Zadash, Beauregard is in mortal danger.

She stumbles inside the stables, and Horse draws a long neigh that attracts her straight to him.

She unties the animal and collapses onto his side as her head swirls and sends another wave of nausea through her whole body.

Horse neighs again, worried, and Yasha pats him on his muscular neck. Grunting, she pulls herself up on Horse’s back, and the creature shuffles forward before stopping, awaiting.

“Take me back.” Yasha pants. “As fast as you can.”

And Horse does.

With a powerful spring, he launches himself outside the stable and throws himself in a fast run toward the outskirts of Xorhas.

 

***

 

Beauregard looks around.

She’s still in the cave they were fighting, but she is floating in front of the Gnoll that was choking her only a second ago. It doesn’t seem to be choking her anymore, and it is snarling its jaws in Jester’s general direction.

“Fuck, I’m dead.” Beau exhales, as a cold chill runs down her spine.

“You’re not dead, you asshole.” A voice next to her grunts.

Beauregard spins around, managing to focus on Caleb’s pale face. He is still bleeding from his left arm, and he looks like he might be about to puke.

“What the fuck is going on, then?”

Caleb throws his arm out, and Beau is quick to grab it and drag him on a standing position.

Caleb exhales, throwing his head against the wall, his face a mask of pure pain.

“We’re on another plane of existence.” He whispers. “I can’t keep us here for long, but I also don’t have the strength to fight off those bastards.”

Beauregard doesn’t even know how to process the information.

“Another… What the  _ fuck _ ?”

Caleb half smiles, and that alone is enough to worry Beau about the conditions of the wizard.

“It’s the Plane of Shadow.” Caleb explains. “It’s a dimension that is both conterminous to and coexistent with the Material Plane. It overlaps the Material Plane much as the Ethereal Plane does-“

“Caleb.” Beau snaps, her attention drifting toward the Gnolls that are now ready to assault Jester. “ _ Common _ , please.”

“It’s a parallel dimension. We can see them, without touching them, but they can’t see us. I managed to transport us here because I was able to touch you, and because you agreed to it.”

“I am not entirely certain I did.”

Caleb laughs, his laugh lacking any sort of amusement.

“You said you trusted me. It was enough for the spell to work. Now, if you’ll please take position, I can send us both back.”

Beau figures there is going to be time for questions after, and she forces her tired limbs to run behind the Gnolls attacking Jester.

As Caleb murmurs his counter spell, Beau feels her feet touching the ground again, and her body regains a normal, painful feeling of realness.

With a raging scream, she brings her staff down onto a Gnoll’s head, and the crack of bones almost makes her smile.

 

They manage to slug back into their Inn before night falls, exhausted and badly hurt, but more or less alive.

Kiri is asleep in Jester’s arms, and Caleb doesn’t even complain when Molly swoops him up bridal style and carries him back to his room.

Beau limps downstairs to grab ale for everyone and is met by Fjord, who silently helps her carry the mugs into Caleb’s and Nott’s room.

When the door closes behind her, Beauregard looks around.

Jester is pacing, singing softly with her lips pressed into Kiri’s head as the little bird shakes in her sleep, probably tormented by nightmares.

Caleb is shifting on the only bed, flinching in pain but determined to make room for Molly so that the tiefling can sit right next to him.

Molly himself, an ugly gush running across his forehead, has his red eyes magnetized onto Caleb, continuously checking for injuries, for blood, for danger.

Nott curls up between the two of them, tired but fairly uninjured.

Fjord starts distributing the ale around, and Beau rushes to do the same.

“To ‘nother mission gone completely to shit.” Fjord mutters, raising his mug. “And to succeeding anyway.”

“Somehow.” Caleb adds, grimly.

“Somehow.” Fjord agrees, letting himself fall on the floor with his back on the wall.

For a while, no one speaks.

The exhaustion is catching up to them, and there is not much to be happy about after the day they’ve had.

Beauregard knows this is the perfect moment to talk, and yet she doesn’t open her mouth until she’s finished her ale.

“I owe you an explanation.” She croaks at the end, her eyes low, studying the bottom of her cup.

“You don’t owe us anythin’, Beau.” Fjord murmurs.

“But if you wanna tell us, I’m really curious to know.” Jester adds, far too chipper for someone who’s almost died twice in the span of one hour.

Beau smiles at her friend’s spontaneity, and shakes her head.

“I wanna.” She says.

And she does.

So she tells them. She starts from the beginning and she tells them about her mother, about her father, about her hometown.

She tells them about the day her world went colorless, and about the day her colors had returned.

She tells them about her childhood and her teenage years, she tells them about the loss of her mother and the hatred of her father.

She tells them about the monks, and the training, and the bruises.

She tells them of how, for almost her whole life, she’s thought that her Soulmate was dead.

Once she’s done stuttering out her whole past, silence falls in the room for a long time.

Beau is afraid to look up, because she doesn’t know what she’ll find if she does.

“What colors?”

Beau closes her eyes. She refuses to cry again.

“What colors, Beau?” Nott asks again.

Beau sighs.

“Green and purple.”

There’s another beat and then…

“Does Yasha know?” Jester asks, full of curiosity and happiness.

Beau shrugs. She still can’t look up from her empty mug.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe? I am probably one of those unrequited Soulmates. It’s not like I’ve been subtle or anything.”

Finally, she forces herself to raise her gaze.

She watches as the whole group turns to look at Molly.

The tiefling looks uneasy, for the first time since Beau has known him.

“Yasha knows.” He admits. “She thinks it’s a mistake.”

Beau snorts, and she thinks that maybe the noise is enough to cover the sound of her shattering heart.

She didn’t think it was possible for it to break even more, but now she knows there is no end to the pain she feels.

“Well, that is just  _ wonderful _ .” She laughs, no happiness in her tone.

She slams the mug down on the table, grabbing her staff right after.

Jester is scrambling to stand up, trying not to wake Kiri while doing so, and Fjord is already standing, with what Beau can only describe as pity written all over his face.

Beau raises her free hand.

“It’s alright, man.” She chuckles, as her insides twist into another painful squeeze. She feels like she’s about to puke. “I’m fucking exhausted. I’m gonna crash in bed.”

She doesn’t let anyone come closer as she basically runs for the door.

Beau loves every single one of them to pieces, but right now she has the impression that she could punch them to death if they tried to stop her.

Just as the door closes behind her, she hears upset bickering, and Fjord’s voice booming over the others.

“Fuckin’ hell, Molly. We talked about this.”

Beau smiles a sad smile and heads for her room.

 

When Jester walks in and deposits Kiri on the bed, Beau’s pillow is still wet with tears.

A soft kiss is pressed into Beau’s temple, and Beau keeps pretending to be asleep.

 

When she wakes up, the sunlight is shining through the windows, and Beau is alone in the room.

She rolls on her back and stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours. She doesn’t want to get out of bed, but she also knows that she should probably get something done. She doesn’t know if the Mighty Nein have gone to the Gentlemen to report about their latest mission, but she finds herself hoping that they have so that they can leave Zadash as soon as possible.

The door opens with a dejected creek and Caleb makes his way into the room.

Beauregard decides she doesn’t care, and she keeps her eyes on the ceiling.

“The others have gone to the bath house.” He says, sitting at the bottom of the bed.

Beau snorts.

Of course Caleb is not with them.

“Shut up.” He mutters, like he knows exactly what Beau finds so amusing.

“Why aren’t you at the Archive?” she asks, and her voice is raw from crying herself to sleep. She realizes it’s the first thing she’s said after leaving them the night before.

“You were not with me.”

Finally, Beau sits up with her back against the wall, and looks at Caleb. He is still pale, and tired, but he looks way better than he did just a few hours ago.

“Why are you here, Caleb?” she asks, tired, but sincerely curious.

“I wanted to know how you felt after your past had been forced on you again.” He says flatly.

Beau feels a pang of guilt that she tries to not to show.

Caleb must see something on her face  because he immediately lowers his gaze and frowns.

“That’s not what… That’s… I didn’t mean to sound that way.”

Beau clears her voice.

“But you did, and it’s okay.” She chuckles, dryly. “I’m sorry, you know?”

Caleb looks up, eyebrow raised.

“Okay, maybe not like, one hundred percent sorry.” Beau backtracks, shaking her head with a half laugh. “But. Sorry that I forced you, yeah. Sorry that I made you relive it, sure. But it… It made you open up and… We kind of started to become friends afterwards so… I’m sorry, but not really?”

Caleb shuffles on the bed, scratches the beard that is already growing back long. For a while, he doesn’t answer, but he looks like he’s struggling to find the right words, so Beau waits.

Part of her doesn’t want him to answer. Part of her just wants him to leave.

But another part of her, the bigger one, is secretly hoping that he can forgive her.

“How about…” he starts, then stops. He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know, Beauregard. We’re both so fucked up. I don’t know how to have this kind of conversation.”

Beau snorts.

Then her lips curve upward in a smile, and Caleb, slowly, carefully, smiles back.

They both fall back in a somewhat comfortable silence, Caleb playing with a thread of his coat and Beau tapping away on her knee with her fingers.

“So…” Beau draws out after a while. “You and Molly…”

Caleb raises one brow in her direction.

“You and I are not  _ there _ yet, with the friendship.” He clarifies.

“You fucked yet?”

Caleb sighs heavily.

“Beauregard…”

Beau watches as a blush spreads through Caleb’s face all the way to his ears. She nods.

“Gotcha.” She hums. “Haven’t fucked yet.”

Caleb just stares at her and doesn’t answer.

“But you waaaaaaaaannaaaaa.” Beau laughs, surging forward and starting to poke the wizard in the ribs.

Caleb blushes profusely and stands up abruptly, shaking his head.

“I’m going to go find Nott.”

Beau sprawls on the bed, grinning from ear to ear, and for a moment she can pretend she doesn’t feel any pain in her chest.

Then, Caleb stops and turns, right before closing the door behind him. He looks torn for a moment, but then he lowers his gaze and clears his voice.

“You should… Talk to Molly.” He says. “He didn’t mean it that way when we talked last night.”

Beau sighs.

“It’s okay, Caleb.”

Caleb looks unconvinced, but also very insecure about how to tackle that conversation.

Beau does her best to  _ not _ smile, remembering what Fjord has said about it.

“Really.” She grins, building every wall back up. “It’s all good. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Caleb pauses for another long moment, then nods.

“ _ Ja _ .”

 

That night, the Mighty Nein regroup at the Inn and Beau joins them. She has made a trip to the bathhouse herself, her hair is clean and her undercut is touched up. Her clothes are clean and her makeup is, for once, put on with purpose.

Her friends look at her stomping down the stairs and raise their cups in greeting, and Beau can’t help but grin and laugh.

She lunges into Jester’s arms and the tiefling blows a feather light kiss on her forehead before pushing her to her own chair.

Fjord throws an arm around Beau’s shoulders and keeps it there, winking at Beau with a soft smile.

Beau melts into the embrace of her friend and looks up to send a thankful nod to Nott when she pushes a gigantic mug of freshly purchased ale toward her.

“First round is on me.” The little goblin girl says with a twinkle in her eyes.

The group cheers, and Beau looks at each and every one of her friends with warmth in her heart.

When she turns to Molly, she finds the lavender tiefling already looking at her.

“Beau…” he starts, red eyes sparkling in a way Beau can’t recognize.

She shrugs.

“Nah, man. Let’s just drop it. At least for tonight.”

Molly nods, and slouches in his chair, shit-eating grin back on his face.

“Ready to be drunk under the table again?” he challenges.

Beau rolls her eyes, grabbing her mug.

“You fucking  _ wish _ .”

 

Being surrounded by her new family makes her realize how much she’s missed in those months.

Beau can see it now, she can see how much her friends care about her.

She can see that what they were feeling was not just pity, but honest pain. They felt pain because she was in pain, and Beau is not sure when it happened, but she knows that they love her.

She can’t stop looking at every one of them, Kiri included, sprawled in Molly’s lap with one feather in her mouth, sucking it contentedly as she looks around.

Beau watches as Jester drags Fjord to the middle of the room, dancing to music that only she can hear. She watches as Fjord smiles and nods and dances and laughs, and she is happy for them.

“You know…” Caleb says after a while, forcing Nott, Molly and Beau to turn to look at him.

“I think Jester and Fjord like each other.”

Beau snorts so hard the ale flings up her air canal and flies out through her nose. Nott falls from her chair.

Molly chuckles, placing his palm on Caleb’s face and bringing him closer to kiss his cheek.

“Oh, darling.” He says, amused by the wizard’s poor observation skills.

Beau coughs and laughs, and Nott emerges from the floor, seemingly incapable of stopping his laughter.

Caleb looks utterly confused, and Molly utterly in love.

Beau laughs harder, and she thinks that yeah, She really loves them too.

 

Nott and Caleb excuse themselves a few hours later and Fjord collects an asleep Kiri into his arms and makes his way upstairs as well.

Beau witnesses Molly fall flat on his face in the effort to follow, drunk out of his mind.

Neither her nor Jester make a move to help him up, and he crawls to sit at the bottom of the stairs until Fjord comes back down to drag him to their room.

Jester starts blabbering about the Traveler, about Kiri, about Fjord, then the Traveler again, then Fjord, going back to Kiri and the Mighty Nein, the Gentleman, only to end up talking about how  _ Tusk Love _ should have a sequel.

Beau is content just sitting and listening, although she makes a big effort to seem like she’s bored by Jester’s chit-chat.

Both of them know it’s all faux annoyance, and Jester keeps their hands locked the whole time.

Once she finally tires herself out, Jester leaves another kiss to Beau’s head and heads upstairs.

Beau is wide awake and not at all tired.

She has done nothing the whole day, and the night still feels young.

She sighs and shakes her head, ordering another ale. Might as well…

The door of the tavern creaks open just as she’s bringing the ale to her lips, and she almost spills the great majority of it when she sees who’s entered.

She stands, putting down the ale with more force than necessary, and she ends up spilling it anyway.

“What are you doing here?” Beau asks, her voice so empty of emotions that she even surprises herself.

Her father grimaces and approaches the table.

“I just… I wanted to talk, Beauregard. Please, let me talk to you.”

Beauregard looks at him

She really looks at him.

He is spent. He is tired. He is a walking ghost.

He is just a simple man, smaller than her both in physique and in spirit.

Beau tries to look in herself for the anger and the resentment, but she finds that there is none. Not here, not now.

She looks at her own father, and she feels nothing.

Beau doesn’t know if it’s the ale, the good night of rest, or the fact that her real family is sleeping upstairs, ready to have her back and love her right, but she doesn’t care.

She huffs and motions for the chair that Molly was sitting on a few hours ago, then hops onto her own, leaning as far back from her father as possible.

He draws a relieved sigh and sits.

For a while, neither of them says anything.

Beauregard nurses her ale, uncomfortable, and he studies his hands in the effort to find the right words.

“I thought you wanted to talk.” Beau snaps after a couple more moments of silence. “Then talk.”

Her father starts, and nods.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I-“ he stops, shakes his head and tries again. “I just came to explain, Beauregard.”

Beau’s brow raises, and she crosses her arms on her chest.

He takes it as a sign to continue, so he does.

“You… Your mother and I… I loved her very much, you have to know this. She was the light of my days, the colors of my world. She was my Soulmate, and I loved her more than anything else in the world.”

Beau knows this. If there is something she has always known about her father, it is how much he loved his wife.

“Yeah. I know.” She says. “You and Mama were Soulmates, she loved you too. More than I would have liked her to. You were a terrible father to me, and she suffered because of it.”

The man shrinks and shakes his head again.

“You are wrong.” He says, harsh, harsher than he’s sounded until now. He backtracks immediately. “I mean. You are right on the fact that my hatred toward you made her suffer but… You are wrong into thinking we were Soulmate.”

That catches Beau’s attention.

“You just said-“

“I just said she was my Soulmate. I never said I was hers.”

Beau uncrosses her arms.

Then she crosses them again and takes a deep breath, prepared to say something witty, something smart, something that _ makes sense _ , but she comes up with nothing.

“I don’t understand.” She admits.

Her father’s head bobs in front of him, and he stares at his open palms as he talks.

“She loved me, so very much. I started seeing green when I met her eyes for the first time, but… Her world was always black and white. No matter how much she tried, no matter how much I tried to love her more, to love her  _ better _ …”

He laughs, dejectedly, and shakes his head for the third time.

“She was never able to see colors.”

Beau frowns and plants her hands on the table.

“That can’t be, Mama was always telling me-“

“Until the day you were born.”

Beau’s jaw falls open, and any word that she might have had vanishes in light of what her father has just said.

“I… What?”

The man doesn’t look up, but he keeps talking.

“Right as you came to life, her world exploded in colors and shades of the rainbow, like nothing she’d ever experienced. She met your eyes as you were crying in pain and she saw the most beautiful blue, and felt the most deep of the pains because you couldn’t stop wailing.”

Beau stares at her father in disbelief, her hands pressing so hard on the wooden table that her knuckles become white.

She doesn’t understand.

She was her mother’s…

“That can’t be.” She repeats, and this time her voice is more strangled.

Her father laughs, sad, when he looks up to see the expression on his daughter’s face.

“Soulmates are not only romantic, Beauregard. Friends can be Soulmates, too. Have you ever met people whose connection is so deep and profound that you’d think they had lived several lives together before?”

Immediately, Beau thinks of Caleb and Nott, of herself and Jester, and she can’t help but nod.

Her father pursues his lips.

“The love of a mother is already as deep as it is, but if your child is also your Soulmate…” he sighs. “There’s no room for anyone else in your world.”

Suddenly, Beau understands.

Not her mother’s love, because that was just sweet and beautiful and warm and gentle and simple.

But her father’s hatred, that was deep and angry and rooted into something so arcane and inexplicable like Soulmates bonds.

He had hated her because she had had her mother’s love, she had been the reason why her mother could see colors.

Her hands close into fists, and she slowly raises from her chair.

“So you hated me…” she draws out, anger bubbling up again in her chest. “Because I was born with a mother who loved me.”

Her father looks up, scared and angry and tired at the same time.

“Beauregard, please.”

“You hated me because of something that was entirely out of my control.”

Her father stands as well and tries to talk, but Beau shakes her head.

“No. Our talk here is so  _ fucking  _ over.”

“Beauregard…”

He surges forward and grabs her wrist, trying to keep her from walking away.

And the lights flicker.

Every candle in the room blows off, and the fire in the fireplace dims, as the room grows darker and quieter.

The few patrons left stop talking at once, as an aura of anger and shadows washes over the entire tavern.

Beauregard’s breath catches in her throat, and she doesn’t move.

“A man should learn to back off when someone says no to him.”

Beau watches as Yasha’s skeletal wings slowly spread, wide and dark, translucent in the faint light of the tavern.

Yasha’s black eyes are bottomless and terrible, fury emanating from them in a way that Beau has never seen before.

Her hands, empty of any weapon, close into fists as Yasha slowly strides forward, proceeding to place herself between Beau and her father.

He drops the grip on Beau’s wrist almost immediately, but somehow finds the courage to talk to the black fury in front of him.

“I just want to talk to my daughter…” he tries. “Explain.”

Yasha takes half a step forward, enough for the man to stumble several of his own away from her.

“A child is not responsible to quell their parent’s mistake.” She growls. “Now leave Beauregard alone.”

Beau is in awe of the raw power and anger emanating from Yasha, and she almost forgets about her father still standing there.

“Go.” She commands him. And finally, he does. He scurries away, tripping over his own feet and slamming the door shut behind him.

Yasha doesn’t move, and Beau tentatively slides her palm on her forearm, gripping it gently.

“Yasha.” She calls. “Hey. It’s okay. He’s gone.”

Yasha takes a deep breath in, and when she releases it, the transformation is immediate. The tips of her hair turn white again, and the black fades from her eyes, bringing back the colors that Beau loves so much.

The light in the tavern goes back as it was a couple minutes ago, and the patrons start murmuring, intrigued and scared.

Yasha blinks a couple times, looking almost disoriented. She looks exhausted, paler than usual, with her forehead covered in sweat.   
Yasha rubs one palm across her face, her breathing still laboured.

Beau moves the hand to grab her elbow and prompt her to turn around so that they are facing each other.

“It’s okay.” She repeats, and Yasha nods.

Beau catches the eyes of the other patrons, and decides that she wants to get Yasha out of their focus  _ immediately _ .

“Do you, uh… Do you wanna go for a walk?” she asks, and she’s almost surprised by how quickly Yasha nods.

They walk out the tavern, and the fresh air of the night hits them both.

Yasha clutches the shawl closer around herself, looking down at Beau like she has seen a ghost.

“You’re alive.” She says, matter-of-factly.

Beau doesn’t really know how to answer to such a statement, so she shrugs and kicks the dirt with the tip of her boot.

“Uh, yeah?”

Yasha takes a deep breath and nods, and Beau can swear she sees tension leaving her shoulders as she does so. But she also realizes that Yasha is still staring at her, and although the attention is not unwelcomed, it stirs a strange sense of nervousness in Beau that she can’t quite shrug off.

“Can I show you something?” Yasha blurts out, almost out of the blue, after a couple more moments of quiet staring.

Beau just nods and follows after Yasha when she takes off, directed toward the back of the tavern.

Beau is confused. She is confused because Yasha keeps turning to look at her, and she is confused because Yasha seems less herself than she usually is.

They stop in front of a couple horses that have been tied to the fence at the back of the tavern, and Yasha places a gentle hand on the neck of one of the animals.

“Uhm.” Beau carefully steps closer, watching Yasha and the horse alternatively. “What are we looking at?”

Yasha pats the creature, who neighs back, content.

“Horse.” Yasha says.

As her confusion grows, Beau starts to wonder if maybe she is more drunk than she’s previously imagined, because nothing is making sense, right now.

“Yeah, Yasha.” She says, slowly. “It’s a horse. I can see that.”

Yasha smiles.

Yasha… Yasha smiles and Beau feels her heart stopping for a second. She doesn’t know how to react in front of something so genuine and spontaneous that she’s rarely seen coming from Yasha.

“No.” Yasha murmurs, always with that soft smile on her lips. “His name is Horse.”

It takes more than she would be proud to admit, but when it finally clicks, Beau starts laughing.

“You named the horse, Horse?” she almost exclaims, bringing a hand up to caress the animal’s neck. “That’s like, really amazing.”

Yasha just nods, a soft shade of pink coloring her cheeks, and she keeps her eyes on Beau.

Beauregard clears her voice, once her laughter dies down, and lowers her gaze.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on but…” she shrugs, eyes on her dirty boots. “Yenno, I’m just… I’m happy you’re back.”

When she raises her gaze again, Yasha is not a couple of steps away from her anymore.

She is closer.

She is really close to her, and she is raising one hand to grab Beau’s chin.

Everything is happening so quickly, and Beauregard feels her heart stopping, her brain short circuiting.

She blinks once, twice, three times.

Beau can see Yasha’s eyes moving to look at her lips, and she is fairly certain that she is about to spontaneously combust.

She doesn’t understand.

After what Molly has said, after what she’s found out, after the months spent in absolute denial, Beau doesn’t know what to do.

“Yasha…?”

It comes out strangled and surprised, but Beau doesn’t have the time to think about it, because a second after Yasha has closed every distance and pressed her lips against Beau’s.

Yasha kisses her so slowly and so gently that Beau feels like she might shatter if she makes a move.

Her mind goes completely blank, because Yasha’s lips are soft and gentle, and she tastes like dust and wind and rain.

Beau grabs Yasha by the shawl and clings to her, breathing into the kiss and moving her head just slightly so that she can push herself more into it.

Yasha gently scratches the back of Beau’s head, skimming her fingers through the undercut as she presses her hands to cup Beau’s cheeks.

Yasha kisses her like time doesn’t exist, holding her like she’s a gift from the Gods, and Beau feels wet at the corner of her eyes.

Yasha breaks away, almost reluctantly, and presses her forehead against Beau’s.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, eyes closed.

Still breathing heavily, with the pressing of her heart thumping against her chest, Beau frowns.

Of all the things she’s expected for Yasha to say after _kissing_ _her_ , an apology is not one of those.

“You’re sorry?” she echoes, and her voice has never sounded so vulnerable, so open, so shocked and full of feelings.

Yasha opens her eyes and fixes her gaze into Beau’s.

“I didn’t want to die without knowing what it felt like.”

Beau’s heart stops.

She doesn’t know if it’s because of what Yasha’s just said, or for the unshed tears in those beautiful heterochromatic eyes, but a sense of horror washes over her whole body and Beau suddenly feels cold, deep into her bones.

“Yasha…?” she whispers, eyes wide, fingers gripping the other woman’s shawl with force.

Yasha smiles.

Then, her eyes roll back, her knees buckle, her body goes completely limp and Yasha collapses to the ground.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the chapter count cause I had to divide some chapters lmao
> 
> Wanna buy me a coffee? Here, you can!  
> ko-fi.com/lexalivesinus


	7. CHAPTER VII - When did my heart get so full of never mind, never mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some answers are given, some are not.  
> Lots of suffering for everyone and just Kiri being a complete goofball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIrst of all: THANK YOU. Thank you to everyone who's read so far, your wonderful comments literally make my day. Thank you to those wonderful souls who've donated a coffee or two: I'm not in the best place, lately, so everything has helped.  
> THANK YOU for being absolute rockstars and wait patiently for these updates and THANK YOU for the love you give to this fic.
> 
> Second thing: ENJOY!

CHAPTER VII - When did my heart get so full of never mind, never mind   
  


“JESTER!”

Beau kicks the door of the tavern open with such force that the wood creeks.

The two patrons left look up in fear, and they press themselves against the counter at the bar. The innkeeper comes running from the backroom, face distorted in a mask of fury, but he stops dead in his track when he sees Beauregard.

The girl’s arms are shaking in the effort, as she carries Yasha’s tall frame across the dining room.

Beau’s knees give in, and she stumbles to the floor in a groan of pain and fear.

“JESTER!” she howls again, her scream making its way through the silence of the tavern and up the stairs.

Beau hears a couple small thuds and then several pair of steps start hurrying on the upstairs floor.

She turns her gaze to Yasha.

“You don’t get to die on me, you hear me?” she shouts, angrily, pushing Yasha’s body away from her own, so that she can free her legs. “You  _ stupid _ fucking perfect face, you don’t get to fucking  _ die _ .”

She cradles Yasha’s head in her lap just as Jester comes running down the stairs, followed by Fjord, a half asleep Kiri, and Nott.

They all freeze on the stairs.

“ _ JESTER _ .” Beau growls for the third time.

Everyone snaps out of their shock. Jester rushes toward Beau and Yasha so fast that if Beau didn’t know any better, she’d say she flew.

Fjord scoops Kiri up in his arms, approaching at a more cautious place.

Nott scurries upstairs, probably to retrieve Caleb and Molly.

Jester kneels on the wooden floor and starts scanning Yasha’s body with her eyes, moving her shawl in the attempt to find any source of damage that can help her figure out what’s wrong.

“What happened?” Fjord asks, his voice more worried than Beau has ever heard it.

“I don’t know.” Beau says, trying to keep the tears from escaping. Crying would do no good to anyone, at this point. “She came back, and almost murdered my father, making a show of those wings of hers, and then we went for a walk and she just… She just collapsed on me.”

Fjord opens his mouth to say something else, but before he does, Jester moves a hem of the giant cloak and finally reveals the stab wound in Yasha’s side.

Beau feels a rush of nausea pervading every single part of her body.

The wound is  _ purple _ , pulsating and still bleeding. Pus and something green come out of it, and the veins around the open flesh are dark and filled with something that is most definitely not blood.

“Poison.”

Beau’s head shoots up to meet Caleb’s haunted eyes, as the wizard kneels next to Jester, who is already casting a spell to detect the kind of poison.

Behind him, a few steps away, his arms clutched around his own waist, Molly stands, red eyes full of fear and despair, his hair all in a mess of tangles.

He meets Beau’s gaze and for a moment, she thinks she might give in to fear herself.

She’s never seen Molly so scared, so helpless, so upset.

And if he can’t keep his cool in such a situation…

“Jester, please.” Beau sobs. “Please, you need to save her.”

“You need to save her.” Echoes Kiri, with her head on Fjord’s shoulder.

Jester turns to look at Caleb, her face a mask of worry.

“Can you cast Delay Poison?” she asks, as she starts to stand. “I have some materials I need upstairs, I can help her, but we need to slow down the poison.”

Caleb rolls up the sleeves of his worn out blouse and nods.

“Do we know what we’re dealing with?” he asks, spinning his diamond in the palm of his hand.

“Wyvern poison!” Jester almost yells as she runs up the stairs.

Caleb pales, and Beau’s heart drops down to her stomach.

“Tell me you can save her.” She pleads, one hand still on Yasha’s cheek and the other going to grip Caleb’s wrist.

“You can save her.” Kiri repeats.

“Kiri, shut  _ up _ !” Beau barks, her head snapping toward the little bird.

Kiri’s eyes fill up with tears, and Beau feels guilt bubbling up her entire being as the little girl sniffles and hides her face in Fjord’s neck.

“Beau.” He hisses, before walking a couple steps away, bouncing Kiri up and down in his arms.

Nott takes Fjord’s place, crawling on the floor at Yasha’s feet and sending a glance toward Beau.

“Beau...” She says.

Beau nods, then shakes her head, her hands trembling as she moves a few strands of hair from Yasha’s face.

Jester comes back running, dropping her bags on the floor with a loud clattering. She starts searching feverishly through her possessions before finally finding what she’s looking for.

She presses a couple different materials into her hands, just as Caleb places his fingers on Jester’s arm.

“I can aid you.” He murmurs.

Jester, whose forehead is already covered in sweat, nods, beginning to murmur a couple words to start the healing enchantment.

Just as her hands start to glow of a red, pulsing light, Beau’s vision blurs.

Then her world goes colorless.

 

“NO!”

Beau doesn’t even realize that Molly has moved until she sees his strong arms wrapping around her waist to drag her away from Yasha’s body.

“Let me-LET ME  _ GO _ .”

Molly growls and literally shakes her.

“No! You need to calm down and let them do their job.” He yells back, putting her on the ground and placing himself between Beau and their friends.

Beauregard tries to take a step forward, ready to fight him, when her head cracks in two in a sharp and violent pain.

She doubles down, pressing her fists against her temples, and Molly’s hands immediately grab her shoulders.

“Beau?”

Beau blinks her eyes open, the pain fading just as quick as it has come, and looks up at Molly.

His skin is purple again, and his eyes are once again red, but the colors keep fading away into grey, only to come back a mere second later with a sharp and painful blast.

Beau holds on to Mollymauk, gripping his blouse to keep herself upright.

“Molly.” She moans, and she doesn’t know if the pain she feels is mainly physical or emotional. “The colors… They keep disappearing…”

He grabs her and holds her as close as he can, covering the sides of her face with his hands.

“Close your eyes, darling.” He advises, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Beau obeys, and her world goes dark. She inhales the pungent scent that is so Mollymauk and makes herself small against his chest. The pain diminishes, but doesn’t disappear.

“I can’t lose her, Molly.” She hiccups. “Not again.”

Molly’s arms encircle her waist as he holds her as tight as he can.

“I know, Beau.” He whispers back, a single, unseen tear escaping his eye. “But they’re helping her, okay?”

The soft murmurs of both Caleb and Jester reach their ears, and Molly presses on.

“You have to have faith.” He says. “They’re going to bring her back. They will bring her back to us.”

Beau presses her forehead on Molly’s chest and nods.

 

Beau taps her fingers on the window, in time with the soft hitting of rain drops against the glass.

It hasn’t stopped raining in two days, and Beau is starting to believe that the Stormlord might be as worried as they all are.

Yasha hasn’t woken up yet.

Fjord doesn’t think it’s a good sign, but Beau’s colors have not gone away for almost thirty hours, so she considers it a victory.

Releasing a loud sigh, Beau turns to look at the two beds in the room.

In one, Jester and Caleb are sleeping, the former softly snoring and the latter shifting slightly in his sleep, brows furrowed and fists clenched. Jester rolls over to Caleb, nuzzling her nose in his neck, and some of his tension melts away.

The two had been casting spells for a full night and a full day, alternating in checking over Yasha so that the other one could sleep.

On the second bed, immobile as she’s been since the combined effort of Molly, Fjord and Beau have placed her on the mattress, Yasha is asleep.

Beau hops down from the window frame, careful not to wake anyone, from the two on the bed, to Molly, slouched on the chair in the corner, to Nott, curled up in the tiefling’s lap, to Fjord and Kiri, sound asleep on a mat next to the door.

She makes her way to the second bed, sitting down slowly next to Yasha’s hand and lifting it so that she can hold it between hers.

Beau looks at Yasha’s soft expression, and her heart beats painfully against her chest.

She looks at those lips, lips she had kissed what feels like a lifetime ago.

The same lips who had apologized to her, expressing a form of regret that Beau can’t understand.

She is not stupid. She knows that Yasha had kissed her because she thought she was going to die, and Beau doesn’t know how she should feel about it.

Did Yasha kiss her because she liked her?

Or she kissed her because she wanted to know how kissing someone would feel like?

The more she looks at her, the more confused she feels and the more she wants to be angry at her.

But she can’t.

Beau can’t be mad at her right now.

The only thing she can do is press her lips against the back of Yasha’s hand and pray to Ioun for her Soulmate to wake up.

 

Beau stares at Yasha’s sleeping figure for what feels like an eternity and one second all at once.

Her thoughts swirl at a fast pace in her head, and her fingers keep rubbing the back of Yasha’s hand almost in an automatic movement.

Beau is so lost in her own mind that she nearly jumps out of her skin when Nott’s hand lands on her leg.

“ _ Fuck _ , Nott.” Beau exhales, her heart in her throat. “You scared the living shit outta me.”

Nott doesn’t look apologetic.

Instead, she just shrugs and tugs Beau’s pants gently.

“You have to sleep. I’m going to watch over Yasha.” She says.

Immediately, Beau is pervaded by a sense of terror and nausea at the idea of closing her eyes for longer than just a blink.

“I can’t.” she says, her voice already cracking.

Nott tugs her pants again.

“Yes, you can.” She counters. “You haven’t slept in days, Beau. You need to at least try to rest.”

Beau shakes her head.

She doesn’t know how to explain that she needs to keep her eyes open in case something changes. In case her colors and her vision change.

She is the only one capable of telling when Yasha is drifting toward death, and she can’t bring herself to close her eyes for fear of missing it.

So she just shakes her head.

“I can’t.” she repeats.

Nott sighs.

“Beau.” She starts, and her tone is so mature that Beau wonders once again how old Nott is. “I trusted you into taking care of Caleb, many times. Now you have to trust me into doing the same thing for Yasha.”

Beau feels a lump in her throat, and she forces herself to swallow it, together with the tears.

“I…” she tries and then stops, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

Luckily, Nott doesn’t need her to.

“I promise you, I will wake you up if anything changes. Even the smallest intake of breath that could alarm me, I will make sure to wake you up. Okay?”

Beau doesn’t move, nor speaks, for a good half minute, but Nott waits patiently.

Finally, Beau nods.

“Okay.” She grunts.

She stands, placing Yasha’s hand back on the mattress, then takes one last look at the woman’s face, before walking toward her bag.

As she unrolls her sleeping mat right next to Fjord’s, she sees Nott climbing on Yasha’s bed and curling up with her head on her stomach, carefully avoiding the still healing wound.

Nott’s giant eyes glisten in the darkness, and Beau rolls with her back to the bed, refusing to see Nott cry.

 

Beau realizes she’s been watched after barely ten minutes of useless attempts to sleep.

Carefully, she cracks one eye open and, when she is sure that there is no immediate danger, follows up with the second.

“Kiri, you should be asleep.” She murmurs, sitting up to look at the little kenku who is standing right between her and Fjord’s sleeping body.

“Go fuck yourself.” Kiri answers, shuffling uncomfortably on the spot, avoiding Beau’s eyes.

From one of the beds, Nott snorts.

Beauregard rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I deserved that.” She mutters before rubbing her eyes and extending a hand toward Kiri.

The little girl looks hesitant at first, but when Beau doesn’t make any other move, she raises one of her wings and grabs the outstretched hand with her own.

Gently, Beau drags her closer to herself, until they’re eye to eye in the darkness of the room.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Beau asks, as softly as she can.

Kiri looks at her feet, retreating both hands to half hug herself around the low of her waist, then does a little dance, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Why are you dancing? What is going on?”

Beau is completely lost.

Kiri doesn’t give up, and keeps gesturing and moving.

It takes a couple more tries, but together with Kiri’s pleading eyes and the low chirp coming from her beak, Beau finally manages to understand what the little girl is trying to communicate.

“You have to pee?” she tries, and almost sighs in relief when Kiri nods.

“Well. Okay, then.”

Beau gets to her feet, sparing one glance in Nott’s and Yasha’s direction, before scooping Kiri up into her arms and maneuvering herself between Fjord and the door. She manages to slide outside without waking anybody up, which she considers a victory in and of itself.

Kiri keeps bouncing in her arms, and Beau rushes down the stairs and into the common latrine of the inn.

She puts Kiri down and she watches as the bird toddles toward one of the chamber pots and plops down onto it.

Immediately, Kiri starts humming a happy melody that sounds horribly like one of Jester’s made up songs about  _ Tusk Love _ , and Beau shakes her head.

As she makes sure that the little kenku doesn’t fall inside the pot, which looks way too big for her, Beau clears her voice.

“Listen, Kiri…” she begins.

Kiri jumps down the pot and looks up, humming a curious sound in response. Beau takes it as a sign to keep talking.

“I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you, the other night. It was really fucking rude. I was scared for Yasha, but that doesn’t… I mean… I just… I just shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

Kiri hums again, and Beau dares looking at her.

The kenku stumbles forward and throws her arms around Beau’s legs, hugging them tight.

“Go fuck yourself!” she exclaims, happily.

Beau snorts, and places one hand on top of Kiri’s head.

“Yeah, man.” She grins, encouraging Kiri to toddle toward the nearest bucket to wash her hands.

“You’re a good kid, Kiri, you know?”

Kiri laughs, splashing the water.

“Yes, I am very sweet!” she squeals.

For a while, Beau just lets her play, envying the innocence and the unbridled joy that the little girl is experiencing.

“I wish I could have that too.” She admits, talking maybe to Kiri, maybe to no one at all. “Like, I am grateful of how my life has turned out to be, y’know? But man, it’s so fucking hard at times.”

Beau shakes her head.

Kiri is barely paying attention to her, but now that she’s started, Beau almost can’t stop thinking out loud.

“And like. It’s hard, with Yasha. I can never tell what’s goin’ on with her and me.” She pauses for just a second, before sighing and rubbing her palms on her eyes.

She is tired.

Not even.

She is  _ exhausted _ .

“I love Yasha. I really fuckin’ do.” She whispers, staring at the wall of the dirty latrine.

It’s the first time she’s admitted it out loud, and she almost can’t believe how natural it feels to just  _ say it _ .

It’s weird, because the Gods or fate have decided that Yasha had to be her Soulmate, but falling in love with her had just felt so natural.

Beau wants to believe that the story the monks have told her is true.

She wants to believe that, in another life, her soul and Yasha’s have loved each other so much that they have found a way to meet again after death.

She wants to believe that, in another life, she has had a chance to be happy.

 

***

 

Yasha wakes up with a start.

Her body tenses and goes rigid as a sharp pain shoots from her side straight to the rest of her body.

She barely hears movement and whispers and gentle words of reassurance, because the pain is so distracting and burning that she almost forgets who she is.

She falls back onto what feels like a mattress, and she wonders if that is what death feels like.

Yasha can’t remember much of the first time she died, but she can remember how it felt to wake up alive afterwards, and this feels horribly similar.

Slowly, she forces herself to breathe.

As air fills her lungs, Yasha tries to recall what she can about her latest memories, but her mind is a blur.

She cracks her eyes open, one at the time, thankful that the only light in the room seem to be coming from a bunch of candles on a nearby bedside table.

“Yasha, darling?”

She knows that voice. She is sure she does, but her mind is so tired, and her body is in so much pain…

“Molly?” she groans, blinking a couple times to try and focus on the details of the room she’s in.

Cold hands grab her from each side, and she distinguishes blue and purple helping her sitting up.

She blinks again, trying to ignore the painful thrumming of her head, and finally manages to identify where everyone is.

Jester and Molly are sitting respectively on her left and her right, the first one already scanning her with incantations, the second one combing his fingers through her matted hair.

Fjord and Caleb are at the foot of the bed, both gripping the wood of the frame with so much force that their knuckles have changed color.

Nott is sitting crossed legged right next to Yasha’s knees, her giant eyes never leaving Yasha’s face.

“What… What happened?” she croaks, coughing when a lump of bile and blood rises up through her throat. She swallows it, and immediately regrets it.

Caleb and Fjord exchange a look.

“We were hoping you could tell us.” Nott says. “All we know is what we’ve gathered from Beau, when she dragged you in the tavern.”

Beau.

Beauregard, who’s not in the room.

Beauregard, who-

All of a sudden, Yasha remembers.

She remembers Xorhas, the slave master’s son, the dagger and the poison.

She remembers her colors disappearing from her eyesight, the journey back with Horse.

She remembers seeing Beau’s father, and the way he had tried to stop her, the way Beau had looked, so vulnerable and young.

And she remembers Beau’s vulnerability in another moment, right before Yasha’d passed out, right after she’d-

“Shit.” She exhales. “Shit. Yeah. Yeah.”

The group falls silent, but they all exchange curious and distressed glances.

Yasha clears her voice, as her hand palms her injured side, right where she can feel bandages over a wound that will scar.

“But how did you… How am I alive?” She looks at Jester, confused, curious, and a little scared. “This poison is lethal.”

Caleb snorts.

He honest to the Stormlord snorts, and Yasha takes a good, long look at him.

He seems exhausted. More tired and disheveled than Yasha’s ever seen him, which is saying something.

“Maybe from where you’re from.” He answers. “The wyvern’s poison we found in your system was  _ almost _ lethal. But there are a couple antidotes, if you know how to prepare them.”

He gestures toward Jester, who’s now sitting right next to Nott, with a bright smile on her face.

“Luckily for you, Jester is pretty good at healing spells, and together with my knowledge, we managed to drag the poison out of your body.”

Silence falls in the room, and questions and answers hang in there for what feels like an eternity, but Yasha doesn’t have to talk to know that they must have caught her just in time.

“I didn’t know…” she admits at the end. “I thought I was going to die.”

Which is why she had done… What she had done. With Beau.

Yasha’s heart beats hard in her chest at the sole memory of that kiss, at how Beau’s body had felt against hers, at how Beau had kissed her, with so much passion and fire that Yasha could’ve sworn she’d never felt what it meant to be alive until that very moment.

“Yeah, we surely thought that, too.”

Every single head in the room turns toward the door, where Beauregard is standing, one hand in her pocket and one arm under Kiri’s legs, holding her on her hip like she weighs nothing at all.

Kiri squeals in happiness at the sight of Yasha, but Beau’s face is a mask empty of emotions.

“You’re up.” She says, and even her voice doesn’t give away anything about what she’s feeling, something that Yasha, more than anything, wants to know.

The rest of the Mighty Nein must sense that something is off, because Jester’s smile becomes slightly less enthusiastic, Nott almost imperceptibly holds her breath and Molly clears his voice.

“Yasha. Darling.” He hesitates, before speaking with more conviction. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

Caleb nods.

“Yeah. Who do we have to kill?”

Fjord, Jester and Nott chuckle, and Kiri screams “I kill people!” from her position in Beau’s arms, and Yasha is certain that this dysfunctional group of people would be ready to leave any second to go hunt down the man who almost murdered her.

Yasha sighs and ducks her head.

“My mother died of childbirth.” She murmurs.

From then on, it’s almost too easy to tell her friends about her past. It’s almost too easy the way the words flow out of her mouth, like they’ve been waiting to be said out loud for a long time.

Yasha tells them about what she remembers of her tribe and tells them about the slave trade. She tells them about the beatings and the blood.

She recounts about the Stormlord helping her to get out of that world of violence, and about the way she’d waited and worked to bring down the slave trade in Xorhas.

Yasha tells her friends her story the only way she knows how: with short sentences, few details and raw truth.

Fjord and Caleb remain standing at the bottom of the bed. Nott reaches behind her to grab Caleb’s hand and Jester does the same with Fjord.

Molly keeps combing his fingers through Yasha’s hair, and she realizes that it’s more of a comfort to him that it is to her.

Kiri places her head on Beau shoulder and listens carefully, her thumb in her mouth and her free hand clutched on Beau’s cloak.

Beau, on her part, doesn’t move a muscle. She remains where she is, standing underneath the door frame, her lips tight and her eyes red from lack of sleep and possibly tears.

Yasha keeps her gaze low on her own lap, so that she can tell her story without that sight distracting her.

“That’s why I keep disappearing.” She concludes. “The Stormlord calls me to finish my job, but bringing a slave trade down is not something that I can do in one night.”

She shrugs.

“And that kid… He didn’t know his father, and he didn’t understand the horrors that those people forced on the slaves.”

Once again, silence falls on the group.

For a while, no one dares opening their mouth, trying to figure out how to better approach such a delicate subject.

Jester is the first one to speak.

“How did you get your wings, then?” she asks, sincerely curious. “Is that like, a slave thing?”

Fjord exhales heavily through his nose, and Yasha almost smiles.

Wonderful, sweet Jester.

“No, it’s not.” She answer. “I got my wings after I died.”

Caleb holds his breath and Molly stops his combing motion.

“You  _ what _ ?”

Yasha sighs, staring at her palms.

“I was eight. My slave master became very violent with me after the first few years. I had witnessed him raping a girl and I had awoken many camps screaming the day I started seeing colors. I had given him many troubles.”

Fjord coughs.

“You… The day you started seeing colors?”

Yasha nods and takes a deep breath.

But before she can even open her mouth to answer, another voice chimes into the conversation.

“It was the second day of the third month of the year.”

Six heads snap in the direction of the door, where Beau is still standing, rigid and pale, her eyes bloodshot.

Kiri lifts her head to look at her as well, and releases a worried tut.

Yasha swallows, her heart starting to beat at a faster pace, her eyes burning in Beau’s blue ones.

“And the day you died…” Beau continues, her voice emotionless and her eyes anything but. “One of the most powerful storms Tal’Dorei and Wildemount had ever seen raged for two days and two nights…”

Yasha can swear her heart is beating in her throat.

“Beau…”

“They said it was terrible.” Beau doesn’t stop, her voice growing louder and louder at every word. “They said the sky became purple and thunders shook the Earth.”

“Beau.” Jester murmurs, with sadness coloring her voice.

“But I wouldn’t know.”

Kiri now is clutching Beau’s cloak with both her hands, but Beau doesn’t look away, she doesn’t move. She just keeps talking.

“I wouldn’t know, because on the same day, I stopped seeing colors.”

The room falls silent.

No one dares saying a single word, waiting, eyes either on Yasha or on Beau.

Molly slowly lower his hand down on the mattress, and Kiri nuzzles her face in Beau’s neck, her little body shaking almost imperceptibly.

Beau’s breathing is accelerated, and when Yasha doesn’t say anything, everyone has the answer they were waiting for.

“You knew.” Beau says, and there’s anger in her voice, there is pain. “This whole time, you knew we were Soulmates… You knew I was your Soulmate and you let me believe it was one sided.”

It’s not really a question, and it’s not a statement either, but the entire group turns to look at Yasha.

Yasha, who has eyes only for Beau, whose hands are clutched over her stomach, whose heart is tearing apart with every word that is being said.

“Yes.” She says, and it’s the breaking point.

She can see Beau’s spirit shattering, her shoulders sagging in defeat, crushed by the biggest pain she’s ever experienced.

Yasha’s heart cracks at the sole sight, and she realizes that dying would have been way easier than having to sit there to watch that kind of sorrow spread all over Beauregard’s features.

“Why?” the girl’s voice is almost a whisper, and Yasha sees exhaustion mixing to anger, and it hurts more than she thought it would.

Yasha shakes her head, trying to shrug away the pain, trying to figure out how to do the right thing.

“Beau, listen...”

“No.  _ You _ listen.” Beau points a finger at her, still holding Kiri up with her other arm. The little kenku clings to her like her life depends on it, and Yasha realizes with a start that everyone of their friends is still  _ there _ .

She feels the panic rising, and her mind blurring at the realization, and she almost misses the half step that Beau takes in her direction.

“You told Molly it was a mistake, that I was a mistake and...”

“Because it is!” Yasha blurts out, her breathing ragged, and she immediately regrets what has just come out of her mouth.

The whole room holds their breath. Everyone, except for Beau, who just looks like she’s been slapped in the face.

Yasha feels guilt and anguish bubbling up her chest, and she throws her legs over the side of the bed, trying to get up.

“That’s not what… I didn’t mean…”

Beau blinks and bends to the floor, lowering Kiri down and gently disentangling herself from the kenku’s grip.

“No, you know…” she says, without looking at Yasha, with a tone that almost sounds calm and collected. “You know, I’ve been called many different things.”

Beau stands and Kiri starts crying, raising her arms and begging to be held again.

“But being called a mistake by your own Soulmate… That takes the  _ motherfucking _ cake.”

Yasha’s heart shatters completely.

Ignoring the pain, she stands, reaching for Beau, forgetting about anything else that isn’t fixing what she’s just done.

“Beauregard, I-“

But Beau raises one hand and laughs.

“Don’t.” she chuckles, drily. “Just… fucking  _ don’t _ , Yasha.”

And without sparing another look to the rest of the room, she heads for the door and leaves.

Kiri keeps crying, even when Jester runs toward her and scoops her up.

“You need to save her.” Kiri hiccups, in a voice that sounds horribly like Beau’s. “You can save her.”

Jester throws one last worried glance at Fjord, before leaving as well, bringing a desperate Kiri with her.

Yasha falls back on the bed, and sees how pale Caleb is, even from the corner of her eye.

Nott and Fjord’s expression are impossible to read, but Molly’s is very much clear.

“Don’t, Molly. Please.” She whispers.

Molly’s head bobs and he closes his eyes for a moment, before nodding. He stands up and, like Jester and Beau before him, heads for the door.

It’s only when he’s with one foot outside the room that he stops.

He turns around, and marches back into the room.

“No.”

Fjord and Nott release a surprised sound, but Caleb only closes his eyes.

Yasha’s head snap toward her best friend, watching as Molly crosses his arms on his chest.

“No, Yasha. I love you, and I respect you, but no. Not this time.”

Yasha tries to open her mouth to speak, but Molly is faster.

“I have never said anything, because I thought you had a good reason for this whole Soulmate thing. I’m sure you have a reason, although I’m starting to doubt that it’s actually good. And that girl…”

Molly points at the door behind him.

“She is annoying as hell, but she would kill and die for you, and for everyone else, really. And she doesn’t deserve this.”

Molly kneels in front of Yasha, taking her hands in his.

“And you don’t, either. You deserve to be happy, darling.” He says, much quieter now. “I know you care for her. More than you’d like to admit. She  _ is _ your Soulmate and you are hers, and whether you believe it or not… You have feelings for each other, that is very much clear.”

Yasha can’t speak, she can’t move, and she feels like it’s a miracle that she is actually managing to breathe.

“No God would deny you the happiness you deserve, and if they do, I would like to speak to them in person.”

“Mollymauk…”

Molly shakes his head, his jewelry jingling happily from his horns.

“It’s your choice, darling. It’s always been your choice.”

And with that, he raises again, presses a kiss on Yasha’s forehead and leaves.

Slowly, Yasha turns to look at her three remaining friends.

Caleb shrugs.

“I understand what you’re going through, Yasha.” He says. “And I love you. But I’m also so very tired of seeing Beau suffer.”

Caleb nods to himself, then shakes his head and exits the room.

Fjord clear his voice and steps around the bed to go place one hand on Yasha’s shoulder.

“You should rest, Yasha.” He murmurs, gently, before making his way out as well.

And once the door closes behind him, silence falls again.

Yasha waits, expecting for Nott to say something, anything.

But Nott doesn’t.

She yawns and crawls up the bed, settling herself under the blankets and smothering the pillow.

Yasha lowers herself onto the mattress, and Nott throws the blanket on top of her, then blows the candles out.

“Why?” Yasha murmurs, protected by darkness.

She doesn’t know what she’s asking for, but Nott answers anyway.

“No one is mad at you. Just frustrated that it’s taking you  _ so _ long.”

Yasha doesn’t really know how to respond, so she shuffles uncomfortably under the cover. Nott curls up next to her, with her head on her chest, in silence.

Yasha doesn’t sleep, but she thinks of blue eyes and a love that was gifted to her by the Gods.

 

Jester sneaks back into the room after a couple of hours, placing a sound asleep Kiri on the other bed.

Yasha hears Nott moving, but she pretends she’s not awake.

“Beau?” Nott asks.

Jester sighs, dramatically.

“That girl.” She says. “She left the inn. Caleb and Molly are out looking for her, if they don’t stop to make out at every alley.”

Yasha feels both the need to laugh and cry at the same time.

 

***

 

Beau walks the empty streets of Zadash for what feels like hours.

She almost doesn’t look at where she’s going, but she figures that Ioun must be guiding her steps, because when she enters a dirty looking tavern somewhere across the huge town, he is there.

Beau stands on the doorway, looking at her father’s back slouched on one of the stools at the bar as the man turns an empty mug in front of his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Beau makes her way over, rubbing her palm over her face to try and erase any trace of tears.

“Get the man another one.” She tells the barkeep, before plopping down on the stool next to her father.

He turns, shocked and clearly very drunk, and stares at her for a long moment.

“Beauregard.”

Beau grins and shakes her head. She’s heard her name way too many times for one single night. She raises one finger to catch the barkeep’s attention and orders herself an ale.

“Don’t get too excited.” She mutters. “I’m not staying long.”

Her father accepts the full mug that’s being placed in front of him with a nod, but doesn’t look away from her.

Beau tries to keep a disinterested expression, but too much has happened in one single night for her to keep the act up for long.

She is tired and she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

Every wall that she’s built in years of practice is slowly being destroyed and she is not sure she can take any more emotional beating.

“How did you not hate her?” she finally asks, nodding at the barkeep when he places her ale in front of her.

Her father flinches, then frowns, confused.

“Mama.” Beau specifies. “How did you not hate her for that whole Soulmate thing?”

Her father chuckles, dryly, and shakes his head.

“I loved her too much.” He answers. “Plus, it’s not like it was her fault.”

Beau releases a skeptical sound and her father ducks his head.

“I know. I’m a hypocrite.”

“You said it, not me.”

For a while, neither speak. They take slow and short sips from their mugs, and for a moment, they’re just a father and a daughter drinking at a bar.

“She loved me, you know?” he says, eventually. “I know she did. I was mad because she didn’t love me the way I wanted her to, and I put that anger on you. But she loved me.”

Beau nods, sad. The thought of her mother is always a painful memory, but tonight she feels the loss even deeper.

“I know she did.”

Her father sighs, starting to scratch a crack in his mug.

“Soulmates are a complex thing, Beauregard.” He murmurs. “My love for her was so profound that it made me blind. It prevented me from seeing that I could have had more than one kind of love, from more than one person. But I was so focused on your mother that I forgot to look past that.”

Beau puts the mug down and turns to look at her father as he talks.

When they’d bumped into each other a few days ago, she’d thought he was changed, physically. She is only now beginning to realize how much her father must’ve gone through in the past few years for him to change his mind like that.

“I don’t know if it was because of my bond with her, or because I was simply a shitty man, but I made the mistake of using you as a scapegoat.” He sighs.

Beau nods, tracing the hem of her mug with her index.

“Soulmate are a complex thing.” She says, echoing his words. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He repeats, before straightening up and stretching his arms above his head. “No one really knows how they work, still. In many places, they don’t even know they exist.”

Beau knows that he’s trying to make small talk, to keep her into the conversation. She knows it, and she doesn’t stop him.

For an hour, or maybe more, she wants to pretend like someone is actually loving her.

“What do you mean?” she asks, rubbing at her eyes, tiredly.

“Well… There are many places, up north, outside of the Empire, where people live differently.” He explains. His voice changes, and Beau has to remind herself that her father has travelled. That he’s seen things and met many people, and that he’d enjoyed visiting places.

She has to remind herself that, and she thinks that maybe they can have something in common.

“Outside of the Empire, they worship different Gods, believe in different things, live different lifestyles. Some people don’t even know Soulmates are a thing. Take the goblins, for example.”

Beau tilts her head, and she thinks of Nott.

“For the great majority, they are born colorblind. They miss one color, but they never question it. They just accept it as it is. But they live in such closeted tribes that their members never travel outside of them, and therefore never meet their other half.”

Beau thinks of Nott, and all of a sudden what the goblin girl has said around their campfire makes much more sense.

“Other populations see it as a weakness, and if their children are born colorblind, they either abandon them or leave them to die. Which is usually the same thing.”

As her father stops talking to drink some more, Beau finds herself thinking of Yasha.

She can’t help it, although she’s there to forget about her, and she thinks about everything Yasha’s said.

About her childhood, about the tribe and the slave trade, and the way she’s said that  _ she had gotten her colors _ .

It hits her, then, that Yasha, growing up in the slave trade, in a place so far north to be weeks of travel in distance, might have not heard of Soulmates until she was already adult.

The only thing that Yasha had known for her whole life had probably been pain, death, torture, and the Stormlord.

“I’m an utter dumbass.” Beau groans, slamming her forehead on the hardwood.

Next to her, her father chuckles.

“If the fierceness of your friends in protecting you is anything to go by… I am not sure I would agree with that statement.”

Beau slowly looks up, cranking one eye open toward her father.

“That’s probably the only nice thing you’ve  _ ever _ said to me.” She points out, and she is surprised by how calm she sounds.

It’s right there and then that Beau realizes that she doesn’t care that much anymore. She has spent her whole teenage years hating her father, and now that he is there, and she has the power to destroy him in every way possible, she doesn’t want to even think about it.

She is tired.

Very,  _ very _ tired.

Tired of suffering, tired of loves gone wrong, tired of chasing people for affection and tired of hoping that she could have the same luck as Fjord and Jester, or Molly and Caleb.

She looks at her father and, for the second time in only one night, realizes that they are probably not that different from each other.

For the next couple of minutes, they fall back into a somewhat comfortable silence.

Her father finishes his ale, and Beau throws a couple coins on the counter to settle the tab.

It’s when he starts to get ready to leave, that he talks again.

“Was that your girlfriend?”

Beau chokes on her ale.

Spluttering and dropping half of the drink on her clothes, she starts coughing, liquid dripping from her chin.

Her father grabs a cloth from behind the counter and tosses it to her, more amused that he would have any right to be in Beau’s eyes.

But as she stares him down, Beau finds herself wanting to have that conversation.

She finds herself wanting to have her father’s advice.

She surprises herself, but she decides that maybe, just for one night, she can keep pretending she’s a normal girl with a normal life and a normal relationship with both her father and her love.

“She’s my Soulmate.” She admits, cleaning herself up from all the ale.

Her father looks at her for a long moment, then takes a look at his empty mug and at the almost empty one that Beau is still holding in one hand.

“Ah.” He says, and Beau can see understanding painted all over his features.

“It’s complicated.” She adds, not managing to keep the sadness away from her voice.

He nods, standing up.

“It always is.” He agrees. “But if you care for the opinion of an old man… I’ve never seen someone turn into an angel of death just to protect another person. That girl must love you very much.”

Beau’s heart aches, and she stands as well.

All of a sudden, she is not sure she wants to talk about Yasha anymore.

“I better go.” She says, quickly.

Her father looks saddened, but he nods.

“I know I don’t deserve this, but…” he hesitates. “I would like… I would love to try this again, Beauregard.”

Beau falters.

She looks at the face of her father, a face she’s seen so very little growing up, a face that had always been hostile toward her, and she searches inside of her for any trace of anger or hate.

She doesn’t find any.

She finds a lot of pain, and regret, and sadness.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you just yet.” She says after what feels like an eternity. “But I guess we can give it a try. Stay in contact and shit.”

Her father smiles a smile that looks so much like hers that is almost unsettling and ducks his head.

“That’s more that I could ask for.”

He nods and stumbles away toward the door.

At the last moment, Beau calls him back.

“Papa?”

He turns in the doorway, waiting, his cloak on one arm.

“You were not a shitty man, yenno.” She says. “Just a shitty father.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment but then, incredibly, he starts laughing.

Beau can see as some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and she wonders when she’s become a better person.

“Thank you, child.” Her father says, then turns and leaves the tavern.

Beau is left there, staring at the door, her mind swirling in a thousand different thoughts.

 

***

 

When the first lights of the morning greet the girls from the open windows of their room, Yasha is still awake and staring at the ceiling.

Nott and Jester help her change the bandage, but Yasha doesn’t say a word.

Kiri stays put, sitting crossed legged on the other bed, observing what is happening in front of her and singing some gibberish tune she must’ve invented herself.

After a couple more minutes of unsuccessful attempts of conversation, Jester and Nott leave the room to go grab some breakfast.

Kiri jumps down from the bed and start wandering around the room, and Yasha simply falls back on the pillow.

She feels empty.

She feels pain, but it’s not the physical one that worries her the most.

She wants to know what the best course of action is, but she can barely understand the mess of events that had brought her here in the first place.

“I love Yasha.”

Yasha flinches, her eyes widening and moving immediately to find Kiri, sprawled on the floor with one of Jester’s scarfs.

Yasha finds herself sitting and speaking up before she even realizes it.

“What did you say?”

Kiri looks up, a confused expression on her face.

“I love Yasha.” She repeats, with a voice that can’t be anyone’s but Beau’s. “I really fuckin’ do.”

For what feels like the millionth time, Yasha feels a painful squeeze around her heart.

Careful not to strain herself to much, Yasha gets out of bed and goes to sit next to where Kiri is.

“What else did Beau say about me, Kiri?” she asks as gently as she can.

Kiri sits up, tilting her head with a worried tut.

“Get into trouble?” she asks, with Caleb’s voice.

Yasha shakes her head.

“No, you won’t get into trouble, I promise.”

Kiri seems to consider her alternative, then she must decide that she doesn’t really care, because she shrugs and grab the scarf once again.

“She is beautiful, yenno.” She says, once again in a perfect rendition of Beau’s tone. “So fucking badass.”

Kiri throws the scarf in the air and watches it fall in twirls on top of her.

“So out of my league. Kiri, fuck, don’t drink  _ that _ !”

Yasha stares at Kiri throwing herself on the floor and rolling herself up in the scarf, her mind running a thousand miles per second.

She looks out the window, and prays the Stormlord for a solution.

And this time, the Stormlord answers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the conversation starts to flow, the M9 become a family even more, and we are getting closer to the end of this journey. Let me know what you think ;)  
> Come talk to me on tumblr! (I just realized my notifications were all off, i'll be checking them regularly from now on!)
> 
> Want to help out and show your love for this fic? You can buy me a coffee here! ko-fi.com/lexalivesinus


	8. CHAPTER VIII – You take a little piece of me, everytime you leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I wasn't supposed to post today. I wanted to have the epilogue all written down before posting this but...  
> Stuff happens, life happens, and Critical Role happens.  
> I feel like this might be a good pick-me-up chapter for all those who are caught up and are currently in look for reasons to smile.

CHAPTER VIII – You take a little piece of me, everytime you leave

When Nott and Jester come back with breakfast, followed by Molly and Caleb, Yasha has already washed herself in the basin at the corner of the room and changed into fresher and cleaner clothes.   
Kiri is propped on one of the beds, jumping and waving her dagger around. She giggles when the group enters.   
“Are you going somewhere?” Nott asks, one hand already on her flask and the other one munching on what is supposed to be Yasha’s breakfast pastry.   
Caleb swats her gently on the head and gives her a reprimanding look, and Nott huffs and basically throws the pastry at Yasha.   
She catches it and nods.   
“I’m going to find Beauregard.” She answers, and she is almost surprised by the certainty in her voice.   
Jester exchange a knowing look with Molly, something that Yasha decides to ignore as she straps her greatsword to her back.   
“Good luck.” Caleb says, cryptic as per usual, before stomping past Yasha to go sit next to where Kiri is now dancing.   
“GOOD LUCK.” Kiri shouts back, and Yasha can’t help but smile.

***

  
“Ye just don’t do that. Ever again. Ye hear me?”   
Fjord has never sounded so stern and scolding, and Beau feels like she’s four again, and she’s accidentally broken her mother’s favorite perfume bottle.   
“I didn’t think anyone would care, Fjord.” She mutters. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve wandered off alone.”   
Fjord places his hand on her head and shakes it.   
“First of all, everyone cares. And you better realize it sooner rather than later.” He  says with a laugh. “And second thing, you’ve never ran off like that. We were worried, Beau.”   
Beauregard slaps his hand away and grins at him.   
“Sorry?”   
He throws one arm around her shoulders and holds her close in a side hug that makes Beau feel loved and accepted. She allows herself to melt just a little into her friend’s body before someone clears their voice not too far away from them.   
Fjord steps aside, and it’s almost like Beau’s lungs have stopped working all of a sudden.   
Yasha looks at her with soft eyes, arms crossed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her hair looks damp, like she’s just finished washing it, and her face is cleaner as well.   
Yasha attempts a smile. She is beautiful, and although Yasha towers over her, Beau doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this vulnerable and open.   
Beau blinks several times, trying to remember how to breathe, and clears her own throat.   
“Uhm, hey.”   
Yasha lowers her gaze to the floor, sucking her lower lip between her teeth and blushing just slightly.   
“Hi.”   
This time it is Fjord who clears his throat before sauntering away without a single word.   
Beau scratches the back of her neck, trying to be the least awkward she can be as she speaks.   
“Wanna go for a walk? It’s a… uh. A really nice day.”   
Yasha visibly swallows and nods.   
Together, they awkwardly shuffle toward the door, stepping into the morning sun.   
Zadash is in full activity, bursting with life and people as the townspeople make their ways about their days.   
Beau and Yasha stand side to side in silence, watching the comings and goings of the men and women, human for the great majority, and they relish in the feeling that the sight entails. Life, pure and simple life that keeps running and moving and being.   
And somehow, they’re both alive and well to witness it.   
Their eyes meet again, and Beau simply tilts her head to the side, inviting Yasha to walk with her.   
For a while, neither of them talk, Yasha with her arms crossed on her chest and Beau fidgeting with the hem of one of her sashes.   
They walk until they reach the market, and both of them instinctively stop. People keep passing by them, not caring nor noticing the two girls standing side by side and feeling like they’re millions of worlds apart.   
Beau takes a deep breath, eyes on her hands.   
“I’m-” she says, just as Yasha starts to talk.   
“Beauregard-“   
They stop, look at each other, and then lower their eyes to the ground.   
Beau raises her hand.   
“Uhm. You go first.”   
Yasha nods, shuffling from one foot to the other.   
“Yeah.” She murmurs. “Yes.”   
The clears her voice, takes a deep breath herself.   
“Uhm…”   
Beau waits patiently, daring to look up only once to see Yasha torturing her lower lip with her teeth before looking away once again.   
Finally, after what feels like ages, Yasha speaks.   
“Here.”   
Yasha’s hand enters her vision, and it takes Beau a second to realize that what Yasha is holding is a blue, soft looking ribbon.   
Beau looks up, frowning.   
Yasha licks her lips, and shrugs.   
“I got it in Xorhas. It made me think of you.” She says, all in one breath. “It’s… blue, and all.”   
Beau almost smiles. Almost.   
In her heart, she feels a painful squeeze that reminds her of the night before, of how Yasha has talked about her past, and how she’s said their bond was-   
“You’re not a mistake, Beau.”   
Beau flinches, retracting almost like she’s been hit.   
Yasha is looking at her with sorrow and guilt in her eyes, and Beau realizes her pain must have shown on her face.   
She shakes her head.   
“No, hey. I mean. You are entitled to your own opinion, dude.” She says, and is proud of herself for how her voice manages to not crack.   
Yasha doesn’t lower her hand.   
Instead, she takes a half step forward, her eyes burning into Beau’s.   
“May I?” she asks, softly, gesturing vaguely to the monk’s hair.   
Beau hesitates just a second, before nodding.   
Yasha side steps, bringing the ribbon up and tying it around the bun, on top of the old one.    
Her hands are gentle, so light that Beau barely feels them.   
She knows she’d be distracted anyway, because Yasha’s body is so close that she can feel how warm she is. Beau forces herself to look at her own boots, hands closed in two firm fists.   
Yasha’s fingers ghost momentarily at the base of Beau’s head, then move, light as feathers, in a caress that ends on Beau’s neck.   
Pressing her palm there, Yasha skims her thumb along Beau’s cheekbone, curling underneath her chin to lift it.   
Beau wants to die and to live and to run and to stay where she is, because Yasha touching her like that makes her heart beat like it’s never beaten before and it’s not fair.   
“Beau.” Yasha repeats, and Beau is forced to look into those beautiful, mismatched eyes. “You are not, in any way, a mistake.”   
Beauregard swallows the lump in her throat.   
“I am sorry if anyone ever-“ Yasha shakes her head. “I am sorry I ever made you feel or think like you were. Honestly, you are the complete opposite of one.”   
Beau doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to believe her.   
But Yasha is looking at her, and her eyes are honest and sincere and Beau falls for her even more.   
Before she can stop herself, Beau raises her hand and places it on top of Yasha’s.   
“Then… Why, Yasha?” she asks, and she sounds tired. She is tired. “Why say it at all? Why did you tell Molly that… I don’t know, I have no idea what you’re actually thinking. I don’t… Fuck. I don’t understand.”   
Yasha slowly lower her hand, but instead of letting Beau’s fall to her side, she grabs it with hers and gently tries to intertwine their fingers. She gives Beau the time to deny her that luxury, she gives her the chance to take her hand away.   
But Beau doesn’t, and their fingers remain interlaced between them as Yasha nods.   
“I know. I am sorry. This…” she sighs. “This was very confusing. Still is.”   
A group of people walk by, bumping into the both of them as they try to maneuver a huge cart full of fabrics into the cramped plaza.    
Yasha releases a frustrated sound.   
She pulls lightly at Beau’s hand, in a silent request, and when Beau follows, they start walking again.   
Yasha leads them between the crowd of people, between the chaos of bodies, until they reach one of the roads that exits the market area. They keep walking, finding an almost empty street, where there are only a couple passerbys headed toward the market.   
The noise slowly fades behind them, and Yasha stops after a few more feet, looks both right and left and finally leads Beau to a side street, where no living being except a couple of rats are in sight.   
The animals scurry away, and Yasha turns again to face Beau, and their hands separate, falling by their sides.   
“You… You have to understand, Beau…” Yasha begins, like she hadn’t been interrupted. “Where I was from… No one knew about Soulmates. I had no idea such a thing existed before I met Molly. But also… I lived my whole life as a slave, and then as an agent of the Stormlord.”   
Yasha taps the symbol of her deity on her belt, and shakes her head.   
“I didn’t know I could have something more in my life.” She whispers, and Beau is thankful they have left the market, because she can barely hear her. “I thought that I just had to be grateful to be alive, and serve my God without questioning anything more.”   
Beau tilts her head. Everything she hears matches what her father has said the night before, and she can’t help but feel sorry for Yasha.   
“I found out about Soulmates from Mollymauk and… Even then… I didn’t think it was something that was in the Stormlord’s plans for me.”   
Yasha crosses her arms on her chest, then lets them fall again, her eyes darting from Beau’s face to the ground and back.   
Beau keeps her hands locked in front of her, doing her best not to move, not to speak, letting Yasha say what she needs to say.   
“Everything was so simple.” Yasha murmurs. “But then… Then you came around and… And you’re so not simple. You… You are so intense, Beau…”   
Beauregard feels her skin itch.   
Her chest tightens around her lungs and she finds it harder to breathe.   
Intense.   
Beau wants to erase that word from her mind, but it’s like her brain can’t stop repeating it and presenting it in front of her eyes.   
“Yeah.” She finds herself saying, as she nods. “Yeah, I know. Not the first time I’ve heard it.”   
She releases the little amount of air that she has in her chest, hoping to force some more in.   
“Listen, Yasha. I… Fuck, I get it, okay? You- You don’t have to say anything more. It’s what I wanted to tell you anyway, y’know?”   
She laughs, and once again she’s happy to hear that her voice sounds strong and secure, even though her heart is breaking a little bit more with every word she says.   
Yasha stares at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.   
“What… You wanted to tell me?” she repeats.   
Beau nods, sharply.   
“Yeah. Yeah. That we can be friends. That I don’t give a shit if you don’t feel what I feel, because I would prefer to have your friendship rather than not have you in my life at all.”   
Yasha’s mouth open, if possible, even more.   
She blinks once, twice, then shakes her head and raises one hand.   
“Wait, wait.” She murmurs. “You… You thought I didn’t have feelings for you?”   
Beau tries to talk, but when her voice fails her, she just shrugs.   
Yasha blinks again.   
“Beauregard...” she exhales, and her lips stretch in a soft, loving smile. “My feelings for you were the only certain thing in all this mess.”   
Beau’s heart stops.   
“After all...” Yasha murmurs, her eyes burning in Beau’s ones. “I’ve always had the tendency to fall in love with storms.”   
Beau’s stomach falls inside of her, then lifts up again, and as it does, she feels like her whole body gets lifted from the ground.   
Her heart starts beating again, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore; it’s just a frantic, quick beating of hope.   
Her eyes widen, as her brain finally manages to make sense of what Yasha’s just said.   
She opens her mouth, and nothing comes out of it.   
Beau blinks, takes a deep breath and…   
“How the fuck am I supposed to answer to that?!” she almost yells, opening her arms and staring at Yasha, trying to pretend like her heart is not trying to beat out of her chest.   
Yasha frowns, her smile disappearing, taken aback by Beau’s reaction.   
She bites her lip, confused.   
“Did I say something wro-?”   
Beauregard kisses her.   
Before Yasha can even finish her question, Beau lunges forward, grabs the lapel of her shawl, drags Yasha down and presses their lips together.   
It’s nothing like the softness of their first kiss, but it is so much more.   
It’s urgent, and pressing, and frantic.   
Yasha pushes herself against Beau’s body, her hands falling on the girl’s hips, trying to bring her closer.   
Both of them stumble on their steps, and Beau finds herself with her back pressed against one of the walls of the nearest building.   
Her brain short circuits, her body acting on its own, her mind completely empty of anything else other than Yasha, Yasha, Yasha.   
Yasha’s hands lower on Beau’s thighs, lifting her legs up to her waist. Beau wraps them around it without even thinking about it, needing to have Yasha’s body as close as possible to hers, needing to have as much contact as she possibly can.   
And then Yasha tilts her head to the other side, parting their lips just enough, and she whispers her name before kissing her again, slower this time, and Beau wants to cry.   
She combs her fingers through Yasha’s hair, scraping the back of her head, massaging her scalp with her fingertips, and Yasha hums.   
Beau smiles in the kiss, gently sucking at Yasha’s lower lips before releasing it with a sigh.   
“Yash…” she murmurs, her heart beating so hard and fast that she thinks even Yasha can hear it.   
Yasha hums again, her eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips.   
Beau presses her forehead against Yasha’s, bringing her hands to cup Yasha’s face.   
“What, uh…” Beau clears her voice, laughs softly, then tries again. “What changed your mind?”   
Yasha sighs, finally opening her eyes.   
“I didn’t.”   
Beau’s heart comes to a screeching halt.   
Once again, her insides twist and turn, and her surprise and her pain must show on her face, because Yasha brings one hand to cup Beau’s cheek, keeping her up with the other one like she weighs nothing.   
“Let me finish, Beau, please.”   
Beau can’t believe that she’s let herself fall into this again.   
She can’t believe that she had believed that this was going to be fine, that she’d get to be happy…   
“Beauregard, stay with me.”   
Beau blinks and focuses back on Yasha, who is looking at her with affection.   
“I didn’t change my mind on the fact that I still owe a lot to the Stormlord.” She explains. “I have a debt that I intend to pay, and a job that I intend to finish. I won’t be completely free until I do so.”   
Beau takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what Yasha is trying to tell her.   
“I have a duty. An obligation.” Yasha whispers, her thumb skimming over Beau’s cheek in a gentle caress. “But one day… One day I won’t, anymore.”   
Beau licks her lips, frowning just so.   
“Uh. You… You mean…”   
“What I mean is… One day, I’ll be free to be with you. But… But not now. Not yet.”   
Beau’s lips open into an involuntary ‘o’.   
“But one day… One day you will.” She says, understanding washing over her. And then, “When?”   
At that, Yasha sighs, frustration and impatience coloring her features.   
“I don’t know.” She admits. “It could be six months, it could be six years. Which is why…”   
She stops, a mask of pain on her face, like her words are physically hurting her.   
“Which is why I can’t tie you to me, Beau. I can’t start something that I don’t know when I’ll be able to continue. I can’t and I don’t want to have something with you where nor you or I are a priority.”   
“The Stormlord is your priority.” Beau murmurs.   
“Yes. And I don’t want you to come second. I want to give you all I have, but…”   
Beau sighs, and finally, completely understands.   
“But you can’t give me all you have, now, because you have to give it to your God.”   
Yasha closes her eyes, and nods.   
“I’m sorry.” She whispers.   
Beau, her hands still on Yasha’s cheeks, gently prompt her to look up.   
When Yasha opens her eyes, Beau’s heart cracks at the sight of unshed tears.   
“Yasha, you dumb… hot… fucking goddess.” She laughs, and it’s a watery laugh, it’s a hiccupped laugh, and she doesn’t know what she’s crying about anymore. “Ten minutes ago I was ready to give up any possibility of love if that meant having you in my life as a friend… I can wait for as long as necessary for you to complete your mission and pay your debt.”   
“You’re not… Mad?” Yasha frowns, and looks at Beau with hope, and love, and Beau can’t figure out how her heart is not exploding right now, because Yasha is vulnerable, and beautiful, and hers.   
“Of course I’m not.” Beau answers. “I would be a really shitty person if I were mad. And I am a garbage person, but not that garbage-y.”   
They both laugh, softly.   
“I can wait for as long as needed.” Beau murmurs once their laughter has died down.   
Yasha sighs again.   
“I can’t ask you that.”   
Beau snorts.   
“Good fucking thing you’re not asking, then.” She grins, and pokes Yasha’s cheek with one finger.   
Slowly, Yasha lowers her legs to the ground, but doesn’t make a move to get away from her.   
Yasha opens her mouth to speak again, but before she can say anything, the shadow of a cloud passes above their heads, and they look up.   
The sky, sunny and calm as it were, is now darkening at a fast pace, stormy clouds announcing the arrival of a storm.   
Their bodies press against each other, and Yasha’s thumb skims over Beau’s lower lip, and when Beau looks back down, Yasha’s eyes are fixated on her mouth.   
“Stay.” Beau finds herself saying, although she already knows the answer.   
“I can’t.” comes the reply.   
What Beau doesn’t expect, what she has never heard in her whole life, is Yasha adding a whispered: “But, Gods, I want to.”   
Beau swallows new tears of love and hope and gratitude, and forces herself to smile.   
“One day.”   
Yasha nods, her eyes still on Beau’s lips.   
Before she can talk herself out of it, Beau pushes up on the tip of her toes and kisses her once more.   
It’s a soft, delicate kiss, and Beau savors it, tries to memorize everything about it, from the softness of Yasha’s lips to the cute noise Yasha makes upon contact.   
Beau pulls away entirely too soon, and doesn’t miss the way Yasha chases after her, trying to prolong it as much as possible.   
“A last kiss for the road.” Beau grins, happily.   
She knows that it could be years before she’ll have the chance to kiss those lips again, years before she and Yasha can finally be together, but she doesn’t care.   
She is more than willing to wait.   
Once again, their foreheads meet halfway, eyes closed.   
Yasha nudges Beau’s nose with her own, and Beau’s heart swells.   
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She promises.   
Beau nods, and takes a step back. Yasha looks up at the sky, frowning and listening to whatever the Stormlord is telling her, and as she does, Beau brings her hands to her own hair and undoes the knot of her old ribbon.   
When Yasha looks back down at her, she hands it to her.   
“I don’t know if you want it.” She says, and all of a sudden she feels very stupid. Maybe Yasha is not the kind to carry a ribbon around. “I… Fuck. I actually don’t know what the hell you could do with this.”   
She goes to pocket it, but before she can, Yasha snatches the ribbon from her outstretched hand.   
“I will always carry it with me.” She says, pulling one of her braids on the front and tying the ribbon around the end of it. “And it will remind me of you.”   
Beau can swear her heart is exploding.   
She dries her eyes with the back of her hand and forces out a laughter.   
“We are so fucking sappy, wow. Good thing Molly ain’t here or I’d never hear the end of it.”   
Yasha shakes her head with a smile and follows Beau back on the main street.   
They walk back to the Inn to retrieve Yasha’s belongings, and they don’t speak another word as they navigate their way through the crowd.   
But as the people of Zadash get on with their day, preparing to shield themselves from the oncoming storm, Beau side steps to walk closer to Yasha.   
Their shoulders bump together, and Yasha’s pinkie grabs Beau’s and squeezes it before releasing it.   
They both keep looking ahead, but the smiles on their faces are identical and full of happiness.

***

  
Yasha collects her few belongings, quickly and expertly, as Beau goes to find the rest of the group, scattered around the tavern.   
For once, Yasha figures, she has time to say her goodbyes.   
The Mighty Nein gather outside the inn, one next to the other.   
As Yasha kneels down to talk to Nott, Fjord and Jester link hands, Caleb leans slightly against Molly’s chest, and Beau lifts Kiri up on her hip, making sure that her dagger is safely tucked away.   
“I’ll pick all the flowers for you.” Nott says, dangling her flask from one hand to the other. “So come back soon, because I don’t know how long they can stay without being pressed.”   
Yasha laughs and nods before awkwardly patting Nott on the head and standing up.   
Jester throws herself at Yasha, who goes a bit rigid at the suddenness of the gesture, but melts into the embrace as the seconds go by.   
“You gotta come back soon, okay?” Jester basically yells in her ear. “Because honestly they’re all pretty weak and I need you here, and we’re all happy when you’re here, honestly.”   
Yasha forces herself not to laugh, and gently disentangles herself from Jester’s grasp.   
“I’ll send you lots of messages.” Jester promises, jumping happily from one foot to the other. “Or, well, lots of words, but one message at the time. Okay?”   
“Okay.” Yasha smiles, before Fjord steps in between the two to grab Yasha’s forearm with his own.   
“Safe travels, Yasha.” He says, and Yasha is grateful for how short and matter-of-factly Fjord is.   
Molly opens his arms wide when his turn comes, and Yasha briefly snuggles into her best friend’s hug before straightening up and nodding at him.   
Molly grabs her from her ears and tilts her head down to press a feather light kiss on her forehead.   
“You be careful out there, darling.” He warns, winking right after with a mischievous expression.   
“Always.” She assures, turning to look at Caleb.   
They stare at each other for a long moment, awkwardly trying to figure out how to best say goodbye.   
“ _ Did you make your choice? _ ” he asks eventually, speaking in Celestial.   
Yasha tilts her head, her eyes darting for a moment to where Beau is whispering something in Kiri’s ear.   
“ _ Yes. _ ” She answers, in Celestial as well.   
Caleb’s face breaks into a smile, an honest, open and light smile, something that Yasha has never seen him wearing.   
“ _ I’m happy for you. _ ” He says, and she nods, lifting then her chin to point at Caleb’s hand, now safely tucked into Molly’s.   
“ _ Me too _ .” She answers.   
Caleb nods as well, then looks away.   
Yasha steps back and to the side, ready to give her last goodbyes.   
She’s left many other times, and many other times she’s known what her duty was, but there’s something different about this time.   
There’s a promise, an expectation, and a hope for the future, and everything is enclosed in the beautiful girl standing in front of her, her blue eyes shining over a content smile.   
“Kiri has something to tell you.” Beau says with a smirk. “Right, Kiri?”   
Kiri nods.   
“Right, Kiri.” She repeats, in Beau’s voice.   
Beau groans, momentarily closing her eyes.    
“The other thing.”   
Kiri tuts and squirms, throwing her arms out at Yasha.   
Yasha bends so that she can briefly hug the small body of the kenku girl.   
“Goodbye, Yasha.” Kiri says. “We will miss you!”   
Jester and Nott squeal, Fjord laughs and Caleb smirks and shakes his head: “So that’s what you were whispering,  _ Fötzel _ .”   
Beau, looking smug and proud, bounces Kiri up and down, her eyes never leaving Yasha’s.   
And Yasha smiles, wide, placing one hand on Kiri’s head.   
“I will miss you, too. Thank you, Kiri.”   
Then, Yasha looks at Beau, drinking her in, memorizing every detail of that smile, of that happiness, knowing that this is the way she wants to remember her.   
Full of life and love and hope.   
The first drop of rain falls on Beau’s nose.   
“Soon.” Yasha promises her, and she hopes that she is not only talking about the next time they’ll see each other.   
Beau understands, and nods.   
“Soon.” She echoes.   
Yasha brings one hand to cup her cheek, and Beau places her palm on top of it.   
They close their eyes, foreheads touching for a brief moment, before Yasha straightens herself up.   
One drop at the time, the rain starts falling, and after one look at each and every one of the Mighty Nein, Yasha turns around and starts walking away.   
She can feel their gazes on her back, and she is not too far from the group when she hears Molly’s voice exclaiming, “What the fuck did I miss?” at the same time as Jester howling a long, excited, “BEAUUUUUUUU?!”.   
Yasha looks over her shoulder just in time to see Beau basically being surrounded by the rest of the group, Kiri nuzzling her head in her neck.   
Beau catches her gaze and grins before rolling her eyes in Jester’s direction.   
Yasha looks straight ahead of her, taking a deep breath and enjoying the familiar smell of rain.   
She tilts her face to the stormy cloud, closes her eyes, and smiles.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, comment and let me know what you think of it!
> 
> Wanna buy me a coffee?! Well, just head to ko-fi.com/lexalivesinus
> 
> Love you all!


	9. CHAPTER IX – When everybody sees the rainbow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST: I had to cut the Epilogue in two (and maybe more) parts. This thing was way too long for me to keep it as one chapter.  
> So hey, good news! You're stuck with me for at least one more chapter after this one!  
> SECOND: Read the notes at the end of the chapter, please. Very important that you do so. Thank you <3  
> THIRD: I hope you enjoy this, fam. I loved writing it.

CHAPTER IX – When everybody sees the rainbow...

 

The Mighty Nein keep travelling for weeks, until those weeks turn into months, and the months into years.

The monsters faced grow in size, abilities and danger, but so do they.

They keep travelling through Wildemount, and people begin to recognize their names and faces.

For people like Jester and Mollymauk, it’s a joy.

For someone like Caleb and Nott, not so much.

People are met and befriended, some are remembered and some are forgotten.

Battles are fought, some are lost, but the great majority are won.

Memories are created.

Memories of victories and losses and growth and love and friendship.

Yasha likes to think she has been there for the most important ones.

She is there when Jester sees her mother again, and she is there to be introduced to the Ruby of the Sea as Jester’s strongest friend.

She is there when Nott faces her old clan, standing up with bravery in front of all the goblins and proving how much of a wonderful creature she is.

She is there when Fjord finally learns the truth about his parents, and she is there to keep the pieces together with the rest of the Nein.

She is there when Lucien’s memories emerge in Molly’s mind, and she is there to promise her love and loyalty to her best friend.

She is there when Caleb faces Trent Ikiton one last time, and she stands right behind him as he slowly watches his old mentor burn from the flames Caleb himself has created.

Yasha keeps travelling from and to the group, and every time she leaves, the pull to go back becomes stronger.

Yasha completes her missions before allowing herself to rejoin her family, but her mind and her heart remain with the group of misfits that keep gathering fame and recognition across Eastern Exandria.

 

The first time she comes back to the Mighty Nein, after she and Beau have agreed to wait for each other, things are at their usual.

Yasha finds them in the middle of a fight, and strikes a powerful blow to the troll’s head, giving Nott the chance to shoot the monster right in its left eye.

They kill the creature with little to no effort after that, and Yasha feels arms around her and smiles surrounding her, and she breathes the familiarity of home.

The same night, both her and Beau take on the first watch.

Beau sits on the grass, leaning slightly against Yasha’s shoulder, and Yasha shows her the journal full of pressed flower.

They don’t talk much, and they comfort themselves with the silence, knowing that there is no necessity to fill it.

It’s only when Fjord and Jester wake up for their watch that Yasha realizes what has changed.

She unrolls her sleeping mat and looks up, instinctively finding Beau’s eyes in the darkness.

Yasha bites her lower lip, then awkwardly shuffles toward Beauregard’s mat.

Without a single word, Beau watches her laying the mat next to hers, and grins.

 

***

 

Beau learns to wait for Yasha’s eyes to close in exhaustion, she learns to memorize the rhythm of her breathing, and she learns to fall asleep with Yasha’s pinkie barely touching hers.

But mostly, she learns to love Yasha’s absence as much as her presence.

 

***

 

It’s the same night as Yasha comes back from one of her month long travels that Beau rolls closer to Yasha’s body, pressing her back against Yasha’s chest.

Yasha doesn’t complain, she doesn’t move, except for the arm that loops around Beau’s waist, keeping her closer.

They’ve been travelling together for almost two years now, and it’s hard to think of a time when their life didn’t include the Mighty Nein.

“Y’know…” Beau murmurs, in the darkness of the forest where they’ve stopped to set up camp. “Sometimes I look at you, and I wish you weren’t here.”

Yasha immediately tenses, and Beau must sense it, too, because she turns around in their embrace and nuzzles her sleepy form closer to Yasha’s body.

“It’s easier to miss you when you’re not around than to live with you, knowing that I can’t have you.” Beau admits, and Yasha’s heart hiccups. “I look at you and I wish that you were gone, because when you’re here I want to kiss you and never let you go.”

Yasha releases a shaky breath, and all she can do, for a long while, is hold Beau to her chest and pretend, for an instant, that they had a normal life.

That they were two normal people in love.

“Do you ever regret your promise?” she asks, eventually.

Beau, almost completely asleep, makes a confused sound.

“About… You know… Waiting for me, and all…”

Beauregard chuckles, then yawns. Her eyes are closed, and Yasha’s hand moving up and down her spine is slowly sending her into unconsciousness.

“Fuck, no. Never.” Is all Beauregard answers, and she is so honest that Yasha almost feels her heart imploding by how much she is loved.

 

Things are not always easy.

Yasha knows that her absence means that her friends grow and learn and change without her, sometimes.

She listens to Jester and Nott recounting of battles she hasn’t taken part of.

She watches as Molly and Beau banter around, not knowing how, all of a sudden, those two have become so inseparable and loving toward each other.

She sees Caleb morphing into a happier human being, but misses the pivotal moments of growth that got him there.

She looks at Fjord, and she knows he understands her sadness, and understands her duty.

 

***

 

Beau never regrets her decision, even though at times, she wishes she did.

Living a life free of obligations and bonds is what she’s ultimately always thought she wanted.

Growing from a girl into a woman, surrounded by a family that she has not chosen but who has chosen her, Beau learns that life has a way of fucking up plans.

It’s almost five years after she’s met the Mighty Nein that the Order of the Cobalt Soul falls.

The Dwendalian Empire is already at war, and so is Xorhas and all the surrounding territories, when Expositor Dairon finds the group as they’re finishing fighting some bandits in the outskirts of Rexxentrum.

She tells them about the corruption within the Order, and how the entire Midwest is no longer trusting the Cobalt Soul after its Headmaster had been declared a traitor for his crimes against the Empire.

“The people need the Order for the protection that it gives to the weak and the poor. But no one is now willing to trust it, because of the corruption within.”

Beau patches up Dairon and nods as the elf explains how the Order is now losing influence amongst the citizen.

“You remember what I told you, the first time I met you?” Dairon asks Beau, as the rest of the Nein sits around them in silence.

“We wade in the filth of society,” Beau recites, serious like she’s rarely ever been. “We weed out the corrupt, we pursue the secrets and evils of the world and expose them to the light, we twist the arm of the unjust until they spill their mysteries, we are the spies, we are the hunters, we are the watchmen to those who rule, we are not kind, we are forthright, we are truth.”

Dairon nods, and there’s a light of pride in her magnetic eyes.

“Now that evil is within that same system.”

Beau nods again, grabbing and leaning against her staff.

“Fuck the system.” She says, lost in thoughts.

Fjord looks over the group and realizes that Beauregard is the only one who hasn’t understood why Dairon is sitting among them with her eyes trained on their monk.

The Mighty Nein look back at him in understanding, but no one dares make a move or say a word for fear of ruining what could very well be a turning point in the history of Exandria.

“The Order can’t fall.” Beau says, tracing the grooves of her staff, now old and beaten up, but still holding together. “The Cobalt Soul is what has kept knowledge safe for centuries. It’s what has managed to keep people safe during many wars.”

She looks up at Dairon.

“Fuck the system, yes.” She repeats. “But you have to rebuild it. You have to do something, Dairon.”

The Mighty Nein hold their breath, when Dairon leans forward to place the palm of her hand on Beau’s cheek.

“I already am.”

 

***

 

Beau refuses.

She stands in front of Dairon and laughs, then almost punches her old mentor, before storming out of the room.

Dairon looks around, and the Mighty Nein stare back with the same concern and the same hope.

“She’ll come around, eventually.” Fjord tries to reassure everyone.

Dairon shakes her head.

“There is no time for eventually.” She retorts. “The Cobalt Soul is falling  _ now _ . And if the people don’t start believing that it can be fixed, that it can be trusted, I am afraid it would be the end of it.”

Molly huffs.

“That stubborn idiot.” He exhales, but there is pride in his voice, and there is sadness.

They all know that Beau has never wanted to lead. They all know she doesn’t want the power. But they also know that Beauregard is a force to be reckoned with, and if there’s a person that can save the Order and keep people safe, it’s her.

Caleb glances over at Yasha, and she sighs.

“Let’s go talk to her.” She mutters as she stands up.

Dairon nods, dragging the hood over her head.

“I’m leaving at first light, and I need Beauregard to come with me.” She warns, before heading out.

 

It takes the Nein a good half of the day to find Beau, but when they do, they curse themselves for not thinking properly about where they could’ve looked.

The Rexxentrum Temple dedicated to Ioun is immense, and as they walk between monks and acolytes, the group find themselves in awe of the power of Beau’s God.

Statues of Ioun, the All Knowing Mistress, look down at them from every corner of the Temple, and when they find their friend, she is sitting cross legged in the middle of a dozen of other old monks, her spine is straight, and she finally looks like the twenty seven year old woman she actually is.

She looks serious, and adult, and wise.

“When did Beauregard turn into  _ that _ ?” Nott half whispers, expressing what the whole group is thinking.

Yasha doesn’t answer, but she keeps her eyes on Beau and falls in love all over again.

They wait in silence, watching as Beau converses with the monks, asking questions and listening to answers, debating and challenging, studying and learning.

The day comes to an end, and after every monk as left, they take a seat around Beau, waiting for their friend to complete her prayers to Ioun before speaking up.

“I can’t do what Dairon asks me.” She says, out loud, shaking everyone out of their trance.

Fjord looks at Jester as she stands up and goes to tackle Beau almost to the ground.

“Yes, you can, silly.” She exclaims, happily. “You’re basically the only one who can.”

Beauregard shakes her head, her eyes full of storming emotions fighting against each other.

“I don’t have a fucking clue about how to lead a group of people, let alone a whole  _ Order _ of them.” She replies, and looks at Molly, trying to find the support she seeks. But Molly shakes his head.

“You underestimate yourself, unpleasant one.” He smiles, and there is something profound in the pride that soaks his voice.

“I… I don’t want to be a leader.”

Caleb reaches out for her, and Jester puts her head on Beau’s shoulder.

“That is why you would make a great leader, Beauregard.” Caleb says, grabbing Beau’s hand with his own.

“You wouldn’t do it for the power.” Fjord adds. “You’d do it for the people.”

Nott nods.

“You are good at protecting people, Beau.” She murmurs, and tilts her head in Caleb’s direction. “Especially when they don’t know they need protection. You’re a good person.”

Beau shakes her head, and they all can see the heaviness of responsibilities dawning on her shoulders.

“We believe in you.” Yasha murmurs, and Beau’s eyes meet hers. “I believe in you.”

Beauregard’s mouth opens just so, and she looks around to stare at her friends’ faces.

She doesn’t know what to say, and she doesn’t know what this will mean to her life, but she knows that she will need her friends with her.

“Come with me?” she pleads, and they all nod.

“Always.” Jester sing-songs, placing a kiss on Beau’s cheek.

 

Beauregard goes back to Zadash, and the Mighty Nein follow, and Yasha observes as the woman she loves straightens her spine and offers her shoulders to carry the weight of an Order that welcomed her when she was a kid without a family.

She observes as Beauregard takes the reins of a world in ruin, a society spiraling toward destruction, and she watches in awe and wonder as Beau drags it back to its feet.

The Mighty Nein witness the people of Zadash greeting Beau’s entrance all throughout the city’s temples. They witness the monks parting ways when Beau accesses the archive and gives orders. They witness their friend leading and offering hands of help around the city and to the outskirts of it, managing to bring the people to safety under the promise of a new Order.

Yasha watches, in silence, as Beauregard grows to show her full power and potential, and her heart sings at the way the people of Zadash learn to love her the way she does.

 

***

 

And soon, Beauregard raises her eyes, and starts to look beyond Zadash, and to the rest of the Empire.

 

***

 

The war worsens.

Yasha is called back to Xorhas to fight for her home and to protect the common people who can’t defend themselves in this battle between rebels and Empire, and for the first time, her God gives her permission to tell her family.

Yasha turns to the Mighty Nein, the night before Beau’s appointment as Headmaster of the Order of the Cobalt Soul, and prepares to say goodbye.

She expects Beau’s nodding and her hand finding hers. She expects Molly’s head on her shoulder. She expects Jester’s wails and pouts about having to see her go so soon.

What she doesn’t expect is Fjord, Caleb and Nott exchanging a long look amongst themselves.

What she doesn’t expect is Fjord clearing his voice and saying: “We’ll come with you.”

What she doesn’t expect is the lack of surprise from the rest of the Nein.

“What?” she manages to say.

Jester throws herself at her.

“Well, Beau can’t really come ‘cause now she’s all powerful and shit.” She explains, and Beau grins. “And I promised the Traveller I would start to spread the word about him in the city.”

“I can’t join because, frankly, someone needs to keep these two in check.” Molly laughs, and Beau pushes him with force and infinite affection.

“But we can.” Caleb says, his voice low but secure. “We can fight. We can help. We can protect you and other people.”

Yasha doesn’t know what to say.

She doesn’t know what to think.

She looks up at Beau, from her position on the gigantic bed that she’s been sharing with Jester and her since they’ve started to live at the Archive of the Cobalt Soul, and tries to find the strength she needs in those blue eyes.

“You will need all the help you can get, Yash.” Beau says, and she smiles a sad and resigned smile. “The war won’t be over anytime soon. The world needs some of you out there, as much as it needs some of us here.”

And Yasha still doesn’t understand, but she realizes something.

Something that Beau has figured out before her.

The war is what is ultimately keeping them separate.

It requires them to be on the same side of it, but with two different roles.

A warrior and a guardian.

Yasha realizes that the war is now at its peak. That maybe  _ –maybe-  _ once it’s over, so her debt will be.

She swallows her sorrows and nods toward Fjord, Nott and Caleb.

“We will leave tomorrow.”

 

They stay long enough to see the people of Zadash cheering at their new Headmaster.

They watch as Beau jokingly demands silence and stumbles onto her words, still managing to draw a couple curses in her thanking speech.

The crowd laughs and applauds and Yasha hides behind the statue of Ioun that is watching over the people of Zadash.

The sky is dark and promising a storm, and Yasha knows that she has to go.

But for a moment, for a brief, eternal moment, she allows herself to stay.

She watches, with tears in her eyes, as Beau looks at the sky and then briefly back at her.

Their eyes meet and Beau laughs, opening her arms and welcoming the downpour of rain.

“Y’know.” Beau tells the enraptured crowd. “Better days will come. Sunnier days. Days without a war.”

Yasha closes her eyes and turns around.

“Days without pain and sorrow. Days when we won’t have to see the people we love leaving for a war we didn’t ask for.”

She walks away, and she is grateful for the rain that hides her tears.

“Those days will come. But until then…”

Yasha stops, turns her head. She can’t see Beau anymore, but the voice of her Soulmate carries to her.

“Until then, I promise you, I will be there to show you how to love the rain.”

 

***

 

The war carries on for three more years.

Beau watches it as it unfolds from the messages she receives from the outposts of the Cobalt Soul around the Empire.

She hates not being able to fight alongside her friends, but she takes the fights that she can carry on to protect her people.

She starts travelling from town to town, fighting off bandits and mercenaries, announcing the Way of the Cobalt Soul, a new Way, a home for those whose lives have been destroyed by the war.

She establishes orphanages and safe houses in Rexxentrum, Zadash, Port Damali and Nicodranas, aided by Jester’s enthusiasm and Molly’s influence.

She pushes as far as she can, almost touching the borders of Wynandir, but never travelling far enough to reach the Xorhasian war.

Once every few months, Fjord, Caleb and Nott come back, until an injury to his leg forces both Caleb and Nott back in the territories of the Empire.

Fjord remains with Yasha for as long as he can, but when the war threatens to hit Zadash, he rushes back to fight alongside his old friends and the city’s new leader, Beauregard.

And so Beau waits.

Patiently and sometimes not so much, she waits for the war to be over, and she waits for the day she’ll be able to see Yasha again.

As she waits, she trains a new generation of monks.

She teaches, and she fights, and she leads, and she realizes how she’s finally found a purpose in life.

 

And then one day, painfully, miraculously, the war starts to slow down.

Over the years, Beau’s father has kept word to his promise, and has witnessed to his daughter’s rising with an encouraging presence in her life.

Beau visits him as often as she can in his house in the Pentamarket area of Zadash, and when he dies, it’s in his daughter’s company and with his daughter’s forgiveness.

His death leaves Beauregard with a thirst for knowledge and sorrow in her heart, and as the war’s dangers lessen, she finds herself looking outside the walls of the city for a new reason.

She starts travelling, alone this time.

Jester tries to convince her into letting her go with her, but Beau refuses. Molly never attempts to even stop her, and Beau is grateful for his quiet friendship as much as she is for Jester’s over eager one.

Beau travels, avoiding the bigger towns and exploring the Menagerie Coast more than she’s ever done in the past.

She rides horses that the temples lend her, she walks through deserts, woods and rivers, she boards carts of merchants and ships of voyagers and she searches.

She looks around for answers to questions she doesn’t even know how to formulate in her mind, but she never stops.

As she travels, she receives messages of a war in decline, of soldiers coming back home, of families being reunited.

In her heart, she knows that Yasha is safe, because her world has been bright and full of colors since the last time she’s seen her, three years ago.

Beau tries to hope for a future where the war will not keep her away from home anymore, but she knows, in her heart, that there is still a long way to go.

So Beau keeps travelling and searching, far and wide.

She crosses paths with humans, goblins, orcs, trolls, tieflings, monsters and old acquaintances and new friends.

Until one day, after following the tracks of what looks like a bear-like creature, Beau finds herself at the top of a hill.

She turns around, takes in the sight in front of her and grins, knowing that her search is finally over.

 

***

 

Yasha looks around.

The war is far from being over, but the battles, the fights, the blood, the death… All that is coming to an end.

Yasha sees men and women of every race, class and age moving and working together to rebuild a city, a society, a life.

She is proud, possibly for the first time in many years, to call herself a Xorhasian. Her people have finally learned what justice and equality look like, and although the cold war of politics still persists, the one of swords and shields seems to have come to an end.

Yasha looks out to the outskirts of Xorhas, where she was once raised to be a slave, and she breathes in something that smells a bit like rain, and a bit like freedom.

And the rain comes, washing away the blood from her sword and from the arid terrain.

Yasha sighs in exhaustion, already thinking of what she needs to do next to bring order in this new Xorhas, when the sky opens up and a storm starts to approach.

As the people around her start running to take cover, Yasha raises a confused gaze to the sky.

Like many years before to this day, the immense silhouette of the Stormlord appears on the horizon, and Yasha holds her hand out for her God to take.

And it’s exactly what the Stormlord does.

Once again, Yasha hears the voice of the entity who’s guided her and protected her her whole life.

“You’ve walked the right path.” The Stormlord says, and Yasha suddenly remembers those words as the first that she’d ever heard coming from her God. “Be strong. Don’t forget who you were.”

And then, “I am proud of who you’d became.”

Yasha’s eyes widen, and her heart nearly leaps out of her chest.

She can’t believe what she is hearing, and she can’t believe what is happening.

“I am free?” she asks, tentatively, almost frightened to wait for an answer.

The Stormlord’s laugh booms across the land.

“Yes, my child.” The God says. “I will call you to me once again, one day, and I will expect you to answer. But you have earned your life, and I am glad to gift it back to you.”

Yasha can’t speak.

Even knowing what she would say, she can’t find in herself the strength to voice any kind of words.

The Stormlord vanishes, and the sky turns grey, as the rain pours down on the desert surrounding Xorhas.

Yasha stares at the horizon for a long moment, her heart beating fast in her chest.

And then, Yasha falls to her knees in the mud, her hands to cover her face, her tears mixing once again with the blood, the dirt and the rain.

She is finally free.   
  
Yasha doesn’t wait.

The exhaustion seems to fade in front of the prospect of the rest of her life.

She hurries to the camp site and calls for the stable boys to bring Horse to her. The eagerness and the hurry in her voice push the boys to run back to where other men are attending to the war horses.

Yasha is vibrating with energy and impatience, the desire to gallop back to Zadash burning in her veins.

“General?”

The voice of her lieutenant startles her, and Yasha brings a hand to her sword as she turns to face the other woman.

Her lieutenant is holding a rolled up paper and looking at her with respect and something akin to veneration.

“The report over the latest activities is ready to be sent to Zadash.” She says. “Would you like us to attach a letter for the Headmaster?”

Yasha almost smiles at how well her people have come to know her.

Everyone in Xorhas is aware of who Beauregard is: not only the greatest Headmaster the Cobalt Soul has had in decades, if not centuries, but the one and only Soulmate of their beloved General.

Voices spread quickly in places like Xorhas, and Yasha knows that Nott is the only one to really blame since, during the long nights before each battles, the little goblin girl used to enjoy telling tales of the Mighty Nein to whoever was willing to listen. Which was, usually, their whole plotone.

Yasha would dwell in those moments herself, enjoying the way Nott’s voice always managed to stir up emotions in her soul.

Caleb, an ale in his hand and a smile on his face, clothes even dirtier and more ruined by the toughness of the war, used to say that Nott must’ve been a bard in another life. Nott would laugh and blush and change topic, but everyone would agree with the wizard.

“General?”

Yasha blinks back to focus, lost in thoughts of how she and Beau would send each other short letters with the excuse of keeping each other updated with the war.

Her heart roars at the thought that those letters, now, won’t be needed anymore.

“No.” She says, eventually.

Her lieutenant nods and turns to leave.

“I’ll have the messenger ready in ten minutes.”

Yasha clears her voice.

“No.”

The woman does a double take, tripping on her own feet.

“General?” She asks, confusion and worry coloring her voice.

“There is no need for a messenger.” Yasha responds, just as the stable boys come back with Horse. “I will deliver the message to the Headmaster myself.”

The woman blinks rapidly, jaw falling open into a giant grin, as understanding dawns over her.

Before she can say anything, though, her expression darkens, and sadness washes over her.

“When will you come back?”

Yasha feels a rush of affection for the woman, who’s been by her side for years, since the war begun.

She sees it in her eyes, that she will be missed, not only by her lieutenant, but by her men as well.

“I don’t know.” Yasha answers, as sincerely as possible.

She doesn’t deny the possibility to go back to Xorhas, as she feels it deeply in her bones, like she once told Beauregard, that it’s her home.

But right now, the pull is coming from somewhere else, from a place that she hasn’t seen in three years, from a person that she craves the touch, the smell, the  _ sight _ of.

A pull of a home of a different kind.

Her lieutenant nods, sadly, and smiles.

“The men will be sad to find out you’re gone.”

Yasha shifts, uncomfortably.

“I’ve never been good at goodbyes.”

The lieutenant smiles knowingly.

“I will break the news in the morning.” She promises. “You will be greatly missed, General.”

Yasha allows herself to laugh, briefly but warmly, as she mounts Horse, great sword strapped to her back and her few belongings in her bag.

“I am not your General, anymore.” She tells her.

The woman blinks, eyes widening. The boys, still standing there in silence but paying attention to everything that is happening, hold their breaths.

“Congratulations.” Yasha says, with a smile. “You have just been promoted.”

And without another word, she presses her heels on Horse’s sides and launches herself out of the stable and into the storm.

 

The gates of Zadash appear to her like in a dream.

Yasha pushes Horse through the main streets of the city, and she can feel the animal’s shaking muscles flexing and contracting under her thighs.

Horse is as tired and worn out as she is from the long and strenuous days of travel, but he seems as happy as her to be back in the city they both love so much.

Yasha barely looks around, her focus entirely on the Tri-Spire, the three massive towers looming over the rest of the city.

But she can’t help but notice how many more shops are open in the Pentamarket, and how many less homeless people are begging for food, coins or work.

Yasha feels a rush of pride and affection toward her Soulmate, knowing that the newfound wealth of the people of Zadash is entirely because of Beau’s law reforms.

Horse takes a sharp turn toward the center of the city, toward the Interstead Sprawl and the pinnacle signalling the presence of the Archive Of The Cobalt Soul.

Yasha’s heart starts beating faster at the sight of a neighbourhood that she’d started to know quite well when the Mighty Nein had first moved there. She recognizes faces and shops and streets where she and Beauregard would go to when they needed to talk, or where Molly would take her when she was feeling imprisoned in a debt that she didn’t know if she could pay.

Horse comes to a sudden stop once he reaches the interior gardens of the Archive, where monks of every race, gender and age are walking, alone or in groups, talking or meditating.

Yasha dismounts, deafened by the fast beating of her racing heart.

She can’t believe she’s here again.

As she looks around, trying to remember the way to Beau’s quarters, she takes in the sight of a place that she used to think it was going to be her home, one day.

She finds it hard to believe that that day has finally come.

Three years, seven weeks and two days.

Yasha doesn’t even pretend she hasn’t been counting.

With her heart in her throat, she lets go of Horse, who starts roaming around in search of water, and she heads straight for the door next to the library entrance, the door that, she knows, will take her to the monks’ quarters.

She’s about to see Beauregard again.

She grabs the handle of the door, ready to yank it open when, from behind her, someone clears their voice.

Yasha turns around to stare into the eyes of a young acolyte, dressed in the same kind of clothes Beau wore when she’d met her for the first time.

Yasha feels the nostalgia hitting her, remembering a poorly lit tavern, a carnival that had been set up under a colorless sky, a group of misfits and the world suddenly becoming less dull, when her eyes had met the ones of one of the most abrasive people Trostenwald had ever seen.

Now, staring down in the eyes of the young monk, Yasha thanks the Gods for the gift of her Soulmate.

“Uhm.” The boy, who can’t be older than eighteen, hesitates. He’s barely reaching her chest in height. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He doesn’t sound attacking, nor challenging, but Yasha’s impatience almost makes her snap.

“I need to see Beau.” She says, her tone empty of any indication of what she’s feeling. “Now.”

The monk raises one brow in confusion, before his expression softens in one of understanding.

“Ah.” He says. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you pass.”

Yasha’s jaw goes slack, and her eyes must show her frustration and her anger, because the monk goes suddenly pale and raises his hands.

“You have to understand, we can’t allow admirers into the Headmaster’s private quarters.”

Yasha stops herself from literally lifting the monk off the ground.

“ _ What _ ?”

The surprise must show on her face, because the boy tries to take a step forward and continue: “There are meeting times, you can come back tomorrow at the temple, the Headmaster will-“

“I bring updates from the war.” Yasha snaps, trying to find a way to get rid of the monk without having to yell that she’s the Headmaster’s  _ forsaken _ Soulmate.

The monk gives her a once over, seemingly convincing himself that what Yasha’s said must be true, but he crosses his arms on his chest with suspicion.

“Okay. Where is the roll?”

Yasha blinks.

“The roll?”

The monk smiles, knowing that Yasha has no roll with her, but not realizing why.

“The roll with the seal of the General. The roll with the updates of the war the Headmaster always receives with the usual messenger.”

Yasha stares at the boy in disbelief.

He wasn’t probably even in his puberty years when Yasha and Beau had met, and she can’t believe that he is now frapposing between her and her own Soulmate.

“I  _ am _ the General.” She almost growls, although the surprise and the impatience makes her sound less menacing and more frantic.

The monk tilts his head.

“Right.”

Yasha’s eyes widen.

She takes a step forward, ready to physically remove the boy from her own sight and possibly throw him across the garden, when a voice coming from the entrance of the library startles them both.

“Yasha?!”

Both Yasha and the boy turn at the name.   
And there they are, a few feet away from them, young and lively as Yasha had first met them, Fjord and Jester, eyes wide and two identical smiles starting to form on their faces.

“YASHAAAAAAA!” Jester echoes in an ear piercing scream, closing the distance between them in a couple bouncing steps and throwing her arms around Yasha’s neck.

Yasha melts in the embrace of her friend, feeling tears prickling at the edge of her eyes as she holds the tiefling close and inhales the smell that it’s so uniquely  _ Jester’s _ .

Yasha looks up at Fjord, still with Jester in her arms, to see him smile one of the biggest smiles she’s ever seen him wearing.

“It’s been a while, General.” He says, and Yasha feels her heart beating almost painfully fast for how happy she is.

Home is not only Beauregard, she realizes.

Home is that group of friends she has found and who have become her family.

“We thought that you were going to be away for another year at least!” Jester yells in her ear, before taking a step back and throwing herself in Fjord’s arms.

“FJORD. SHE’S HERE.” She squeals, and Yasha laughs.

Fjord rolls his eyes, affectionately, then looks at Yasha.

“Beau didn’t tell us you were going to be back.” He notes.

Yasha grins.

“Beau doesn’t know.” She reveals, and then, as surprise colors both her friends’ features: “I’m here to stay.”

Fjord and Jester hold their breaths, and Yasha can distinctively see tears in their eyes, but they must sense her impatience, because they start talking at the same time.

“What are you  _ waiting _ for?”

“Oh my Traveller, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing here? Fuck off to Beau!”

Yasha chuckles to herself, and she nods.

Her gaze falls on the monk, who has followed the whole interaction with wide eyes and a face that has gotten paler and paler by the minute.

“You are General Yasha of Xorhas?” he meekly asks, his voice not louder than a whisper.

Yasha doesn’t bother to answer, deciding to leave the boy to Fjord and Jester’s hands, and finally yanks the door open.

She basically runs over the empty hallways and up the stairs, thanking the Stormlord when she doesn’t find anyone else on her way, then pushes through the entrance of the Headmaster’s living quarters, where two monks standing guard watch her as she passes.

They look distracted by a voice that seems to be talking in their ears, and Yasha blesses Jester and her promptness.

She is not prepared for the sight that appears in front of her eyes when she finally enters the last door.

Mollymauk is sprawled on one of the chairs in front of the window, a blue tapestry over his half bare chest, his horns longer and curvier, his hair shorter but darker.

He is barefoot, with one hand behind his neck and the other one holding a bowl of fruit, and Yasha’s heart beats up in her throat before stopping completely.

Beauregard, opposite side of him, sits cross legged, her now long hair collected on her head in a braid that falls on one shoulder, showing the shave of her undercut.

Her clothes are different, softer looking; her robe is darker, of a more intense blue, and Yasha can’t see her front, but she doubts Beau would ever give up on her crop tops. Even her skin is darker, tanner, and more scarred than the last time Yasha’s seen her.

She is barefoot as well, and leaning with her chin on one hand toward Mollymauk.

Yasha freezes on the spot at how comfortable and  _ normal _ the whole situation looks.

All of a sudden, she feels insecure.

After three long years of distance, who is she to step back into Beauregard’s life, messing it up without even a warning?

Yasha has no idea if Beau is still is honoring that promise, or if she’s gotten tired of waiting. Their last letter had arrived to her a few months ago, after all, and Yasha hadn’t had the time to reply…

Maybe, Yasha thinks, maybe being Soulmates wasn’t enough.

There was the change that Beau had fallen in love with someone else.

Or…

“That is  _ not _ a rule of chess, you fucking moron.”

Beau’s exasperation shakes her out of her trance, and Yasha holds her breath at how much she’d  _ missed _ that voice.

She sees as Molly looks up, as his red eyes widen in surprise and recognition and happiness, and then, once again, her heart seems to stop in her chest.

Because Beau, noticing Molly’s reaction, looks back toward the door, and Yasha forgets every single one of the doubts that had been crowding her mind a minute ago.

“Yasha…?” Beau whispers, her beautiful face colored in pure shock.

Yasha takes a step into the room just as Beau stands up.

“Yash, we weren’t expecting you for a few more months at least.” Molly says, dragging himself to his feet as well.

Yasha doesn’t answer, she keeps walking toward Beau, whose eyes are now filled with worry.

“Is there something wrong in Xorhas? The war?” she asks, shifting immediately into the role of the leader. Yasha loves her even more desperately. “Are you ok-“

Beau doesn’t get to finish her question, because Yasha finally closes the distance, grabs her face between her hands and crashes her mouth onto Beauregard’s.

The immediate second her skin touches her Soulmate’s skin, her lips meet Beau’s lips, Yasha forget that the world even exists.

She kisses Beau hard and urgent, and the moan of surprise that Beau releases is quickly swallowed into fast breathing and a ruffle of movements.

Beau links her hands behind Yasha’s neck, her whole body arching against Yasha’s, her whole being meeting Yasha’s in their first kiss after eight years.

Yasha feels tears running down her face and, before she can even realize it, she is falling to her knees, arms encircling Beau’s waist and face pressing into Beau’s stomach.

Yasha suffocate her sobs into her Soulmate’s body, her shoulders shaking in the intensity of everything she’s feeling, from love and affection to the longing of those years, to the pain and the scars and the blood of a war that has kept them separate for way too long.

Beau drops to her knees as well, fingers threading through Yasha’s hair and lips kissing every inch of skin she can reach all over Yasha’s face.

“I love you.” Beau whispers. “I missed you.”

Yasha smiles and presses her forehead against Beau’s, staring straight into her blue eyes.

“I love you.” She echoes, and it feels weird to say it, but so very right.

And if Beauregard, Headmaster of the Cobalt Soul and member of the Mighty Nein, cries, only Mollymauk Tealeaf is present to see.

 

So, of course, the day after, the whole Zadash knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are.  
> I want to warn you, guys. Next chapter, things are going to be... A bit dark, at points. Some of you might not see my ending as a happy ending, although I consider it as such.  
> SO. If you think like you're not up for another bumpy ride, consider this chapter you've just read as your epilogue. I cut it here specifically for this reason.  
> Otherwise... Stay tuned, as soon as I'm done writing, I'll post.
> 
> Liked what you've read, though? You can buy me a coffee! (or a snack for my kitty) Just head to ko-fi.com/lexalivesinus


	10. CHAPTER X – ...I'm stuck...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I'm so sorry for this monstrous delay in the update. I haven't forgotten about this fic. I have always had every intention of finishing it, but life and work and school and lIFE! Took me forever to write this and yes, you guessed correctly, I'm not even done. This thing was coming out too long so I had to cut the chapter yet once more.  
> The next one will be the last one, I'm like...85% sure of it.
> 
> IMPORTANT: Stuff will get heavy and angsty from this point onward, READ THE TAGS OF THIS WORK PLS, and be prepared.   
> TW: Major characters death
> 
> Thank you @quacktracks for beta reading this delirious thing.

CHAPTER X - ...I'm stuck...

 

Jester and Fjord get married the following summer.

The war is over, Yasha is home for good, their family is together and it doesn’t make sense to wait anymore.

And finally having his best man back from the war, Molly proposes to Caleb right after Jester and Fjord tie the knot.

Life gets easier.

Beau never thought she’d get the chance to have a life like that, a love like that, but both her friends and Yasha manage to prove her wrong every day.

Her relationship with Yasha is a whole new discovery.

The first few years are burning with an urgent, almost desperate passion that both Beau and Yasha feel might consume them.

Every kiss is breathtaking, every touch is startling, every night is spent worshipping the other’s body and soul.

Beau remembers falling in love with Yasha as something inevitable. Now, as she lives with her every day, and every day gets to see the softness of Yasha’s love, she falls for her in an entirely new way.

 

***

 

Yasha realizes what having a life for herself means.

She learns to live and make her own decision because she wants to, and not because of the ultimate goal of a God above her.

She roams around Zadash because she likes the city.

She visits her friends, scattered around town in their own living quarters whenever she wants to.

She trains with Fjord because she has fun doing so.

She hikes with Molly because she has time to spend with her best friend.

She converses with Caleb in Celestial because she can allow herself the luxury.

She goes flower picking with Nott because they both enjoy it.

She assists Jester with her healing duties at the Traveler’s temple because she can use her magic and energy for someone other than her own deity.

She goes back to hers and Beauregard’s room at the end of each day because she is in madly in love with a woman who still looks at her like she’s hung the stars in the sky.

 

Jester gets pregnant when Beau is hitting her mid-thirties, and she announces it at their Mighty Nein bi-weekly dinner.

They’re sitting around a table at the Leaky Tap when Jester orders a warm milk and explains with a smile that she’s expecting.

Nott cries. Molly and Caleb laugh and get up to hug Fjord and Jester.

Beau high fives her best friends with a blinding grin on her face, and then turns to meet Yasha’s eyes.

Yasha, whose lips are curled in a soft smile of her own, freezes.

She sees Beau’s eyes widening just ever so slightly, before Beau’s attention is drawn back to a very hungry and very demanding Jester.

The night goes on, uneventful, the group of friends simply celebrating the wonderful news and drinking to the soon-coming new member of the party.

Yasha sips on her ale, uneasy like she hasn’t felt in years.

She can’t believe she’d ever thought things were going to be always easy. And yet, she had.

Yasha doesn’t think she’s ever wanted kids. It had never been a priority, a thought, even, considering that her whole life she’s thought she would’ve ended up alone.

But Yasha sees Beauregard at the temple. She sees her every day, even when Beau doesn’t know she’s there.  _ Especially _ when Beau doesn’t know she’s there.

Beau, surrounded by kids.

Beau, smiling and laughing, running around with the young acolytes one day, and with the orphans of the city the day after.

Beau, who is absolutely amazing with children, and who looks like she would be an amazing, absolutely spectacular, if not a little blunt, mother.

Yasha doesn’t comment much during the night: Beau looks so happy at the news of a kid that she can spoil, and Yasha’s stomach twists and turns.

 

They all go back to their houses when the sun is already starting to rise.

Yasha feels barely tipsy, her anguish and her discomfort sobering her up more than she would like.

Beau is quiet, with a pensive look on her face that makes Yasha want to run as far away as possible.

She feels caged, even more than when she was under the debt of a God, because now she feels trapped between wanting something for herself and loving a woman more than she thought she could ever love anything.

When they arrive back into their rooms, Beau disappears to go freshen up, and Yasha starts slowly undoing her clothes.

Deep inside her bones, she wonders if it’s because she fears she will have to get dressed soon, to leave the room.

Yasha is so focused on her ragged breathing that she almost misses the moment when Beau walks back into the room.

One glance, and Yasha knows that this conversation is happening, because Beau looks just as worried as she is.

“Look, Yasha…”

“I don’t want kids.” Yasha blurts out, interrupting Beau before the woman can even finish saying her name.

In the faint light of the moon, Yasha can almost pretend that Beau’s eyes are not shimmering with tears, that Beau’s face is not changing expression into… into a  _ smile _ ?

“ _ Fuck _ , I love you.” Beau exhales, and Yasha doesn’t understand.

She doesn’t understand, until Beau’s lips crash on hers, until Beau’s hands trace the lines of her face, until Beau’s body presses against hers.

The way Beau hugs her and hides her face in her neck, with fast paced breathing that only now Yasha recognizes as relieved.

“You… You don’t want kids either?” she asks, and she almost wants to laugh, she almost wants to punch herself, because how could she have thought that this was going to be the deal breaker? That the Gods had paired their souls so perfectly for them to be separated by something like this?

Yasha breathes in the smell that is so uniquely Beau’s, that is so uniquely  _ theirs _ .

“Fuck.” She murmurs. “Fuck, Beau.”

And Beau grins and kisses her and pulls at her clothes.

“Yeah.” Beau laughs, and a couple tears finally leave her eyes. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

 

***

 

Loving Yasha is something incredibly simple and incredibly satisfying.

There’s not a single day where Beau wakes up and doesn’t thank Ioun for the miracle that is in bed with her, either fast asleep with one arm thrown messily around her waist, awake and with a lustful look in her eyes, or somewhere in between, content to be held by Beau until duty calls for them both to get up.

 

***

 

The burning, urgent love of the first years gives room to a more mature love, a passion that is still present, but it’s made softer by the normalcy of the day-to-day life.

 

When Ruby is born, Beau and Yasha realize that they were both right with their decision not to have kids.

They fall in love with Jester and Fjord’s kid, and spoil her rotten together with Uncle Caleb, Uncle Molly and Aunt Nott, and they feel like their life couldn’t be fuller than how it already is.

Ruby grows surrounded by love, acceptance, support, understanding, and lots of good teachings from her extended family.

 

***

 

One night, as Yasha is finishing to read the latest report from her former Lieutenant, still in Xorhas, Beau walks tiredly into the bedroom, letting herself fall face first onto the huge mattress.

Yasha barely moves, simply bringing a hand to scratch behind Beau’s ear, until her groans turn into soft purrs.

Yasha hides a smile.

They haven’t seen each other in a couple of days, Beau being too busy with some Council matter to come back to a decent hour, always finding Yasha fast asleep, or having to be gone before she was even awake.

Yasha is just content to have her back there, with her.

Beau takes her sweet time before she decides to sit up, long enough for Yasha to re-read her report and put it away.

Before Yasha can even kiss her, Beau blows a strand of hair away from her face, grabbing her long braid in a movement that looks almost casual, but that Yasha has learned to recognize as nervous.

“I found you a job.” Beau says.

Yasha tilts her head, confused.

She hasn’t had a proper job since coming back from the war, always living the day as it presents itself, either helping Jester or spending time with Molly, either training with Fjord, or enjoying her time with Nott and Caleb.

Beau clears her throat, twisting her braid tight.

“It’s kinda why the Council has been up my ass the past few days, actually.”

Yasha grabs Beau’s hands with her own.

“I don’t understand.” She admits.

Beau nods.

“It’s, uh… You’d be an ambassador. Sorta.” She explains. “You’d be travelling around Wildemount, checking over the New Empire for the Order and the Council, reporting back to me and… shit like that.”

Yasha blinks.

“I don’t understand.” She repeats, slower this time, as every word starts to click in her mind.

Beau nods to herself, taking a deep breath and licking her lips.

“I see you, Yash.” She murmurs, eyes lowered onto their joined hands. “Every time we are out in the market, every time we are close to the gates of the city, your eyes… I don’t think you do it on purpose, sometimes I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it but… You look  _ out _ . To the open road. Or… When the storm hits the city. I can see how much you love it… How it calls you… And, fuck… And every time you look back at me and I  _ see _ it. How much you love me. It’s like you’re happy to be here, with me, but it’s also like you want to be out there.”

Yasha stays silent. As Beau speaks, Yasha just looks at her Soulmate, seeing the way Beau’s body tenses and relaxes, how she finally looks up at her with so much love and pain and understanding.

“I want you to be free, Yasha.”

Yasha blinks again.

“But I am happy here. With you. With the others.” She says. She has never been good at expressing emotions, but she can’t lie. She is happy here.

Although…

Although Beauregard is right.

They both know it, and Yasha is in awe at how well Beau has learned to read her.

“I know you are.” Beau murmurs, and Yasha sees how painful this is for her to say, to see, to admit. “But you also love different things. And this job would allow you to leave the city whenever you please, to come back whenever you want, to go anywhere you like. You were born to roam, Yash, and I want you to do just that.”

Yasha disentangles one hand to cup Beau’s face with her palm.

She looks up at her, vulnerable, and Yasha once again revels in the gift that Beauregard is.

Still socially awkward and abrasive most of the times, but loving, and caring, and secretly very soft. She can’t believe that such a wonderful being is  _ hers _ .

Yasha kisses her slowly, gently, until the tension leaves Beau’s shoulders and the nervousness seeps away.

“But I will miss you.” Yasha murmurs, flatly, once she breaks contact to search for her Soulmate’s blue eyes.

“And I’ll miss you a whole fucking lot, too.” Beau grunts, groaning and letting herself fall back on the bed.

Yasha looks at her for a long moment, then shakes her head.

“You are so good, Beau.”

Beau smirks, eyes half closed, reaching blindly for Yasha’s arm to drag her down with her.

“That’s what she said.” Beau yawns, nuzzling her face in Yasha’s chest.

Yasha snorts softly, encircling Beau’s waist with her arms.

“The Council didn’t agree with your decision to send me around the world?” she asks.

Beau hums.

“But not for the reason you think.” She says. “Caleb was the most stubborn, of course. Mister Master of Arcana doesn’t think I should send you away from me, because I’ve suffered enough when I wasn’t with you.”

A yawn, Beau’s feet rubbing against Yasha’s calf.

“The Council doesn’t understand why I’m doing this. They say I could be sending literally anyone else.”

Yasha can see their point of view.

“I don’t understand either.” She says, and she knows Beauregard is about to fall asleep. She knows she won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.

“It’s just ‘cause I love ya.” Beau murmurs, with a weak shrug.

Yasha’s heart squeezes, painfully and wonderfully, at the woman in her arms. She presses her lips on her forehead, listening as Beau’s breathing evens out.

 

And so Yasha starts travelling again.

She visits places she’s never seen, she rides Horse to Nicodranas and Port Damali to check on the orphanages and safe houses, she enters Rexxentrum wearing both her armor, representing the Free Lands of Xorhas, and the blue sash, representing the New Order of the Cobalt Soul.

People run to the gates of the cities when they see her approaching, they offer her food and shelter and stories and thanks.

Yasha finally sees the new world that she’s helped to save and rebuild, and every time, she comes back to Zadash to tell Beau how wonderful everything is.

Sometimes she travels with one of her friends by her side.

Sometimes, Beau joins.

Sometimes, her and Ruby go on wild camping expeditions not too far from the city. Yasha gets the chance to teach Ruby about storms, and Aasimars, and past wars and slave trades.

Most of the times, though, Yasha travels alone, and she closes her eyes under colorful skies and breathes in her freedom.

 

***

 

Fjord is the first one to leave them.

The human blood in his genetics grants him a few more years than expected, but one night, Beau wakes up at the violent pounding of a fist against the wooden door of her bedroom. She is alone, Yasha yet to be back from one of her travels.

As she opens the door, ready to sucker punch whoever has disturbed her sleep, she sees Mollymauk’s teary eyes and she understands that something has irremediably changed.

She wakes up some of the older monks, ordering to send a message to Yasha, before following Molly out of the Interstead Sprawl and into the Tri-Spire district, where Jester, Fjord and Ruby live.

The Mighty Nein gather around Jester’s bed, where Fjord’s breathing is slowing down minute by minute.

Jester, powerful and determined Jester, is out of spells, out of ideas and out of hope, watching her Soulmate’s strength leave him little by little.

 

Yasha barges into the room in the first lights of the morning, and she barely gets the chance to exchange one last smile with her friend, before Fjord closes his eyes.

Silence fills the room, and it’s the first time in decades that they see Jester cry.

Beau crouches next to her and gathers her in her arms, and slowly, every one of them joins the hug, until their pain becomes one, until every tear is shed to a point of exhaustion.

 

Fjord’s death is met with sadness and mourning celebrations across the city.

Everyone who had the chance to meet with the Mighty Nein suffers with them, and the people start murmuring about something they’ve never thought before.

About their heroes’ mortality.

About their fates.

About the days when more of them will be forced to let go.

 

Jester and Ruby move back into the Archive of the Cobalt Soul, a couple apartments away from Yasha and Beau.

Jester gifts smiles and joy to everyone around her during the day, but Beau opens her door more than once to find her standing in front of her with pain in her eyes and tears streaming down her face.

When Yasha leaves for her travels, Jester and Ruby sleep in Beau’s bed, and Beau holds both of them together when nightmares wake mother and daughter up in the middle of the night.

She tries to keep her best friend safe, to be strong for her, to help her heal, without realizing that having Jester this close is a comfort to her as well.

 

***

 

It’s after a couple of years that Caleb falls sick.

His decline is less surprising or abrupt than Fjord’s, but not less painful.

Beauregard spends every waking moment in Molly, Caleb and Nott’s apartment in the Pentamarket, bantering with each and every one of them and pretending that everything is going to be alright.

Yasha takes on nearest destinations, always ready to come back to Zadash whenever necessary, but after a few months pauses her travels altogether. Caleb manages to settle every business that he has open, and simply lets himself be surrounded by the warmth of his friends and family.

Mollymauk never leaves his side, except for long walks that Jester forces him into taking with her when Caleb is asleep.

Yasha sits with Caleb during restless nights, speaking softly with him in Celestial and burning in her memory the sound of Caleb’s voice, the warmth and peace in his eyes.

Beau curls up in Caleb’s bed when she thinks no one can see her, and leans her head on the wizard’s chest, talking about this or that silly memory from their early days.

The Master of Arcana, Caleb Widogast of the Mighty Nein dies one summer night in his sleep, so peacefully and happily that they only notice because Molly falls on his knees as they’re all gathered in the kitchen, and they understand by his sobs that he can’t see the color of Beau’s robes anymore.

 

***

 

Nott’s life force starts to weaken almost right away.

They move her to the Archive, and Jester operates at her best to try and figure out what is happening and what kind of illness is affecting her, but nothing makes sense.

Molly sits with Nott, without speaking, his red and teary eyes almost empty and lifeless.

Jester and Yasha cast spell over spell to keep Nott with them, until one day, when everyone is gathered in her room, Ruby sound asleep in Yasha’s lap, Nott looks up at Beau.

"You have to tell them.” She murmurs, weakly.

Beau pales, when everyone’s eyes move on her.

“Tell us what?” Jester prompts, more curious than suspicious.

Beau shakes her head, tears already running down her face and her body wracked with sobs.

“I can’t.” she whispers, and clutches her chest.

Nott coughs.

“Too fucking bad, you have to.” She groans.

Molly slowly stands up, his eyes darting from Beau to Nott and back, fear and suspicion coloring his features.

Yasha holds Ruby to her chest, wanting to reach for Beau and yet terrified of what they are all about to hear.

“Beauregard.” Molly says, and his voice is low, raspy, haunted. “Tell us  _ what _ ?”

Frumpkin, on Nott’s lap, flattens his ears and hisses.

Beau angrily wipes her cheeks with her fist, trying to calm her breathing long enough for her to speak.

“Nott…” she starts, takes a deep breath, then tries again. “Nott can’t be cured, or saved. A goblin’s life span is maximum forty years.”

Jester frowns.

“But Nott is…”

“Way older than that. Yeah.”

Molly and Jester keep their eyes on Beau, confused and afraid. It’s Yasha who understands first.

“It was Caleb, wasn’t it.” She asks, hesitant, and it’s more of a statement than a proper question. Beau nods. “What… What did Caleb do, Beau?”

“He tied Nott’s life to his own. He shared part of his life force with her, so that she could live longer. Of course this… This shortened his own.”

Jester covers her mouth with her hands, and Yasha’s head ducks.

Beau looks for Molly’s eyes, and they’re burning in anger and pain and understanding.

“When?” he asks, and Beau almost doesn’t recognize him.

“He cast the spell a few months after your wedding.”

Molly takes a step forward, and Jester grabs his arm before he can do or say anything else.

“Did Fjord know?” she asks, sadly.

Beau hates herself and the situations, but forces herself to nod.

“We were his best men.” She whispers. “We agreed not to tell anybody until Nott would give us permission.”

Nott, eyes half closed, reaches out to hold Beau’s hand.

“I’m sorry.” She says, and no one knows who she is exactly talking to.

Molly fixes his eyes in Beau’s.

“And you  _ let _ him?”

Beau bristles, something resembling fear in her eyes.

“It was his life, Molly. His own decision.” She spits out.

Molly relents, looking like someone who’s just been slapped on the face.

Then his head ducks, and he walks away.

 

***

 

The night after Nott’s funerals, Molly shows up at the Archive of the Cobalt Soul with a bag slung across his shoulder.

He deposits Frumpkin on Yasha’s lap, pressing a soft kiss onto the woman’s forehead.

“Caleb would have wanted you to have him.” He says.

Yasha doesn’t stop the tears, but she stands up to grab Molly and hold him close to her chest.

She understand why he needs to leave, why he has to go and leave everything behind, but it doesn’t make it any less painful.

“Will I see you again?” she asks, refusing to let go of her best friend in the whole world.

“I think you will.” Molly says, with no happiness in his voice. “But not now, not soon.”

Jester steps up when Molly turns to look at her, and hugs him tight and strong.

“Where will you go?” she murmurs, sadness and resignation seeping through her voice. Yasha feels exactly like she does, but tries to keep her expression as stoic as possible.

“I don’t know yet.” Molly says. “I need to go as far as possible. I can’t stay where everything reminds me of him. Of all of you.”

Jester nods and forces a smile in his direction, and both her and Yasha startle at Beau’s next words.

“You’re a fucking coward, that’s what you are.”

Yasha’s breathing hitches, and she finally turns to look at her Soulmate.

Beau, who looks absolutely livid.

Beau, who’s standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed.

“Never claimed to be anything different, darling.”

Beau grits her teeth.

“I can’t  _ fucking _ believe you, Molly. You’re leaving? Seriously?” her voice raises in volume and anger, and neither Yasha nor Jester can make a move. “What if you’re needed here? What if a moment comes when you will be needed here, and you’re  _ gone _ ?”

Molly’s face changes for a brief moment, and Yasha sees pain, and regret, and anger in her best friend’s eyes.

“It’s  _ my _ choice. I’m doing this for  _ me _ , Beau.” He says, and his voice breaks. “You’ve seen him, you’ve seen Nott’s fade… I can’t… I want  _ this _ to be my last memory of you. Now that you’re young, and healthy, and  _ alive _ .”

Beau takes a step back, almost like she’s been punched in the face. Yasha can understand why Molly wants what he does.

Running, leaving things behind being better than he’d found them, better than what they could become.

“Fuck you, Mollymauk.” Beau sobs, angrily, before throwing one punch to Molly’s chest.

Molly stops her weak attempt by grabbing her wrist, and Yasha doesn’t know how it’d happened, by they end up hugging in a mess of insults and “I’ll miss you”s.

“It’s okay, Beau.” Jester says, when Molly’s hand closes on the door’s handle. “He said that to Yasha, too. We might see each other again.”

Molly stops, turns and smiles between tears. His eyes are shining, and his smile is broken.

“Oh, how much I love all of you magnificent, wonderful, women.” He whispers.

As the door closes behind his purple tail, Yasha sees something in Beau’s eyes that deeply unsettles her.

The knowledge, more than the suspicion, that this is the last time that she and Mollymauk Tealeaf will ever cross paths.

 

Yasha clings onto Jester and Beau and Ruby and Frumpkin.

She decides to remain in the city for a while, before attempting to separate herself from her family. She fears of something happening when she’s gone, and she plays with Ruby more frequently, she works with Jester more enthusiastically, she pets Frumpkin less absentmindedly, she touches and kisses Beau more meaningfully.

And it’s thanks to that, to her being present and constantly alert, that she notices how Frumpkin slowly stops to go out hunting for food, or to run and play with Ruby, until the cat suddenly starts spending all his hours curled on Beau and Yasha’s bed, his eyes drooping and less attentive.

Yasha and Beau visit every animal handler of the city, calling every monk, every healer, every cleric to visit him.

They ask for Jester’s help and, when she directs them to her own daughter, they look at Ruby with hope.

“I’m sorry, Auntie Yasha.” Ruby says, sadly. “This is magic beyond my abilities. I don’t know how to cure him.”

Yasha holds on to Frumpkin, her last connection to her best friends and a loved companion of his own, and takes him back to the Archive with her nose nuzzled in his fur.

That same night, Beau comes back after a day of frantic errands, and deposits an empty animal carrier on the bed.

“What do you say, Yash?” she grins. “Wanna go for a road trip?”

 

And so, they leave.

Beau doesn’t mention where they’re going. She doesn’t give any indication or reveal any clue whether she knows about what could or could not save Frumpkin.

But Yasha trusts her.

She trusts her with her life and soul, and she packs her belongings, arranges the animal carrier around her shoulder and places Frumpkin in it.

They leave the Archive with the fastest horses, in the middle of the night, with just a quick goodbye kiss to Jester’s cheek.

Yasha lets herself be guided through mountains and rivers, through deserts and towns, until she stops recognizing the places they’re passing or the mountains they’re leaving behind.

“Are we leaving Wildemount?” she asks as they’re boarding a vessel, one early morning.

“Hell yeah.” Beau says, and her smile tells of secrets and past travels that Yasha knows nothing about.

Travelling with her Soulmate by her side, Yasha realizes how much of Beau she still doesn’t know, how much of her she still has to discover.

She watches as Beauregard guides her through foreign lands, and she trusts her Soulmate with a love that increases every day.

 

Finally, one day, halfway through the morning, Beauregard stops.

They’re at the top of a hill, in a clearing of the small forest they’ve entered the night before.

A big raven flies low, from one branch of a tree to the other, and Beau laughs.

“Beau?” Yasha asks, confused, one hand of Frumpkin’s head, the other already reaching for the sword.

And then, a voice surprises them from behind them.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon, Beauregard.”

Yasha turns, and her breath catches in her throat.

Next to her, Beau smiles, content, reaching out to place her palm on the small of Yasha’s back.

“Neither was I.” Beau answers, shrugging. “But I’m glad to be here.”

Yasha doesn’t know what to say. She simply stares, until the woman in front of her moves just slightly to meet her eyes.

“You must be Yasha.” The woman says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I am the Voice of the Tempest, but you can call me Keyleth.”

 

Keyleth of the Air Ashari welcomes them into her home, and as Beau opens cupboards and grabs food, Yasha realizes that this is most definitely not her first time in the house.

Yasha stands in the middle of a room filled with books and artifacts that seem to whisper of a life of their own. She doesn’t know much about history, or Tal’Dorei in general, but Yasha knows that she’s entered a house that protects someone who’s helped shape Exandria.

Keyleth approaches her and smiles, gently, a little shily, and Yasha  _ trusts _ her.

 

Keyleth spends a night looking over Frumpkin, casting spell after spell and nodding to herself, but when Yasha and Beau meet her again in the morning, the cat looks alive and well like he hasn’t been in what feels like months.

Yasha hugs Frumpkin, breathing in his soft smell and reveling in his gentle purring.

“How?” she asks, in wonder and curiosity.

“Frumpkin is a fey creature.” Keyleth explains. “His life force is mainly coming from the fey world, which is a different Plane of Existence. Your Master of Arcana, Caleb Widogast, knew how to harness this kind of magic.”

Beau stiffens at the mention of Caleb, and Yasha’s heart aches in a similar way.

The pain of losing Fjord, Caleb, Nott and Molly is still a very open and very much bleeding wound.

Keyleth sees it, either on their faces or in their eyes, and her expression changes into one of sadness.

“Mister Widogast was a very wise man. He knew how to send Frumpkin back and forth from one Plane to the other. But since he died, Frumpkin has been forced to stay in this Plane of Existence, without the possibility to go back to his own Plane.”

Beau clears her voice, and shoots a worried glance at Yasha, who blinks, trying to harness her own fear.

“Does this mean that we have to send Frumpkin back?” she asks.

Keyleth smiles, and places a hand on Yasha’s.

“Not if you don’t want to. All Frumpkin needs is to be sent back once in a while to his own Plane, where his life force can replenish and where he can get his strengths back.”

“And then he’ll live?” Beau asks, more urgent and worried than Yasha would’ve expected her to be.

Keyleth’s eyes bore into Beau’s, and Yasha realizes that there is a piece of conversation that she is most certainly missing.

“That is up to you.” Keyleth assures. “As long as he’ll have someone to send him back and forth, like Mister Widogast did, Frumpkin will live. Possibly forever.”

 

And so they stay.

For three days and three nights, Beau and Yasha stay as Keyleth’s guests in her house in Zephrah.

The Half-Druid teaches Yasha the enchantment to harness Frumpkin’s short jump between one Plane to the other, and Yasha drinks it in, learning at the best of her abilities, learning magic for the very first time in her life.

Beau sits, silently, and watches, and her eyes often cloud with thoughts that Yasha is afraid to uncover.

 

At the dawn of the fourth day, when Yasha finally starts to learn the enchantment, Keyleth turns to look at Beauregard.

“It is time.” She says, sadly, and Beau nods.

“I will see you in a week or so.” Beau says, collecting her belongings.

Yasha doesn’t understand, but once again she trusts her Soulmate, as Beau kisses her goodbye and leaves the house.

 

Yasha stays with Keyleth, learning the magic, until Keyleth smiles at her during lunch and lowers her head, asking her what she knows about immortality.

Yasha’s heart falls in her stomach, as she starts to understand what this trip really is about.

 

***

 

“Kiki told me I was going to find you here.”

Beau lowers her ale on the counter with a wide grin spreading across her features. Around her, the tavern’s chattering is loud and joyful.

Beau turns around in her stool and her breath hitches.

Vex’ahlia has not changed a bit since last time she’s seen her.

“Vex.”

The Half Elf strides forward, taking Beau’s face between both her hands and kissing her cheeks with warmth and familiarity.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Beau grins.

Vex plops down on the stool next to hers, and winks. She gestures for a drink for herself, and the two settle in a comfortable silence.

In the words that are not spoken, Beauregard knows why Vex is here. She knows because Vex was there when Beau had gone to find Keyleth to ask for her help the first time.

She knows, and she is not sure she wants to talk about what’s coming.

Beau finishes her drink, when Vex finally speaks.

“Have you told her, yet?”

Beau’s breath hitches. She feels a painful lump forming in her throat, and she blames the alcohol for making her so vulnerable. Both Vex and her know that she’s not nearly as drunk as she wishes she was.

She swallows the tears, and shakes her head with a wet laugh.

Vex sighs.

“You have to tell her, Beauregard…” she murmurs, softly, gently, like a mother trying to sooth her child.

Beau closes her eyes, straightening her back and trying to find the strength to carry on.

“I know.” She answers, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes.

She rubs them, tiredly, then turns to look at Vex’ahlia.

“I know.” She repeats, and her voice cracks. “I just… I don’t know how.”

Vex’ahlia wears her heart on her face, just like her girlfriend, and Beau can see it break for her. She hates herself for it.

But Vex just surges forward, and hugs her tight.

 

Beau and Vex walk back together to Keyleth’s house, enjoying the people of the Air Ashari waving and welcoming Lady Vex’ahlia back home.

They don’t rush their steps, and Beau finds joy in the way Vex’s steps carry them through the city.

“How long have you been away?” she asks, and Vex shrugs.

“A month or so. Had to check on my grandchildren in Whitestone.” She laughs, in a way that Beau could only describe as nostalgic. “Percival would’ve been proud. They are everything we never were. Great people, really.”

Beau swallows a myriad of questions that she wants to ask, but somehow Vex must read them in her face.

“It wasn’t always easy, darling.” She says, with a sweet smile. “Both Kiki and I… It’s not easy to outlive your loved ones. But somehow, we managed.”

Beau looks straight in front of her, like her own heart is calling for her to do so, and she meets the heterochromatic eyes of her Soulmate, looking down at her from the doorsteps of Keyleth’s home.

Beau feels, more than sees, Vex smiling next to her.

“Somehow, Yasha will manage, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes:  
> A. Aasimars live up to 160-180-200 years (depending on your source) but for the purpose of this fic and for how I saw Yasha's background, Yasha doesn't age.  
> B. My beta made me notice that she couldn't remember Beau meeting Vex and Kiki, so I wanted to remind everyone of Beau's travels in the previous chapter. At some point, Beau starts looking for something and starts travelling. That's when she finds Kiki and Vex.  
> C. LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I'll try to update and finish this fic asap but I can't promise much.


	11. CHAPTER XI - ...in the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I just... I know. I promise you, there IS a very valid explanation as to why it took me like. Five months? to post the ending.  
> And all you have to do, if you wanna know it, is to head down to the end notes. I promise, I explain everything.
> 
> But we're at the end of this (very long) journey and I wept a bit when I pressed the last keyboard's key.  
> This is for superfrumpkin who, from when I started to today, is now officially my girlfriend. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten this far.
> 
> ENJOY.  
> (And if you wanna hurt yourself, I listened to My Friends by Oh Wonder on repeat as I was writing this)

CHAPTER XI – ...in the rain.

 

“You have kept things from me.”

Beau doesn’t know what hurts the most, if Yasha’s words or the pain behind them.

She drops her bag next to the tent they have just finished setting up, then slowly turns to look at Yasha.

The Aasimar is holding Frumpkin like he’s her anchor, and Beau feels guilt and regret washing over her.

“We’ve always kept things from each other, Yasha. It’s not like it’s the first time.”

Yasha stares, then nods.

“Okay. I’m going to sleep.”

Beau realizes her mistake immediately. She springs forward, catches Yasha before her chances to fix things lessen, before something can be ruined irremediably.

“Yash, no. I… Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Yasha looks down at her, her eyes soft and confused, loving and scared.

“Then which way did you mean it?” she murmurs. “Because I realize there are many things I do not know about you, and I am okay with it. But we have traveled through continents to go find someone who could heal a fey cat, and this someone happened to be a member of  _ Vox Machina _ ?”

Beau shrugs, scratching the back of her head. She instinctively grabs her braid, starting to twist it.

“I wasn’t even sure I’d find them there.”

Yasha brings her fingers where Beau’s are resting, gently easing her grip on her own hair.

“But you knew where to look anyway. You had known them already. What the Voice of the Tempest has told me…”

Beau sees Yasha shiver. She sees her try to keep herself calm, and all she wants is to step forward and kiss her and forget all about this.

But she can’t.

The time has come, and she knows it.

She intertwines her fingers with Yasha’s, tugging her to lead her inside the tent.

The wind is picking up.

They have left the Air Ashari tribe no more than twelve hours ago, but they had thought it was best to set up camp before nightfall.

They sit one in front of the other, and Frumpkin trots to a corner, curling up into a ball and blinking his big yellow eyes in their direction.

Beau places her hand on Yasha’s cheek, and the woman leans into it instinctively, turning slightly so that she can kiss her palm.

Beau smiles, knowing that this is exactly how she wants to remember Yasha for the rest of her life.

Gentle, soft, patient and so madly in love with her.

“I didn’t know when I met you for the first time.” Beau murmurs. “And there’s really no easy way to tell you this. I’ve tried for so fucking long to find a way to ease you into this conversation but… I just…”

Yasha looks confused, understandably so, but brings her hand to cover Beau’s and waits, patiently, for her to find her words.

“When my dad died, they called me to his death bed. His illness… It was bad. It ruined his mind…”

Yasha nods.

“You told me in one of your letters.”

Beau sighs.

“I did. What I didn’t tell you was how bad it was.”

Once again, Yasha doesn’t prod. She waits, patiently, for Beau to find the courage to tell her what she has kept from her.

“He… He started to forget things. When he was alive. At first, it was nothing serious. He would forget which day the market was held, or when I was supposed to go visit him. But then it got progressively worse. He started forgetting names. And people. One day, he just… He forgot Mama.”

 

Beau takes a deep breath, forcing the words out of her mouth and refusing to look up at Yasha.

“When they told him, one of those days when his memory wasn’t fading, he cried. I’ve never seen my father cry the way he did when they told him he’d forgotten his Soulmate.”

Beau shakes her head with a dry laugh, a sound that unsettles Yasha even more than her words.

“It was upsetting to put it mildly. Not even when Mama died have I seen him like that. Somehow, the idea that he would forget something so precious, so godly divine and sacred as his Soulmate… It destroyed him. He got exponentially worse after that. Ironically, he never forgot me.”

Beau shakes her head again, a few strand of hair coming loose from her braid.

Yasha resists the urge to tuck them behind Beau’s ear, afraid that any movement could break the moment, could stop Beauregard from saying what she needs to say.

“He always knew who I was, even if at times he would confuse the years and think I was still a child.”

Beauregard shrugs.

“I… When he was about to die, he…”

Her voice dies in her throat. Beau coughs, blinking rapidly, and Yasha feels it in her bones even before her brain consciously realizes what Beau is about to tell her.

“He told me… Fuck, there’s no easy  _ fucking _ way to say this…”

“Just do it.”

They both startle at Yasha’s voice, so low, shaking and scared like very few times they’ve heard it.

Beau looks up, meeting Yasha’s eyes with her own, and they both swallow a lump of emotions at the sight of the other woman’s tears.

“He told me it’s a sickness that runs in the family.” Beau breathes out.

Yasha can see it as the words leave her Soulmate’s mouth: it’s like a weight is being lifted from Beau’s shoulders, a weight of a secret and a curse that she’s kept from her since the day of her father’s death.

Yasha blinks in Beau’s direction, not knowing what to do, say, think.

“He said that his mother had it, and her father and uncle before her.”

Beau’s voice is no louder than a whisper, but Yasha feels like every single word is being shouted in her ear, pressing against her brain, trying to make way toward her already breaking heart.

Without even realizing it, her hands slip away from Beau’s.

“Yash… I… Please, just… Please, say something...”

Yasha looks up, at Beau’s panicked face, at the pain painted all over her beautiful, aging features, and she feels rage bubbling up from deep within her body.

“You’ve kept this from me.”

Beau swallows, and nods.

“I did.”

“Since your father died.”

“Yes.”

Yasha closes her fists, pressing them hard onto her thighs.

The rage she feels is mixed with pain and terror, and she knows that she can’t afford to lose control in the small tent.

She’s standing before she realizes what is happening.

Outside, the wind has picked up almost violently.

Yasha steps out of the tent, managing to put just a couple steps between herself and her Soulmate before her wings explode out of her back, the horrifying sound of bones reassessing covered only by her long, pained scream.

The sky roars in response, and thunders come crashing down in the distant horizon, as rain joins the now even stronger wind.

Yasha falls on her knees, mud splashing all over her pants and boots.

“You’ve kept this from me… For twenty five years.” She roars, black eyes fixated on her closed fists.

Beau’s small, warm palm lands gently on her back, right in between her wings, right where Yasha’s shawl fails to cover her skin.

“I did.”

Yasha ignores the feeling of comfort and wellbeing that that simple touch gives her, and she’s standing and turning around before neither her nor Beau can understand what’s happening.

Face to face with her Soulmate, with the wind slapping against their clothes and hair, Yasha feels distant from Beauregard in a way that she has never felt before.

“You’ve known, this whole time.” She roars. “You’ve known you could get sick at any moment, and you… You made me travel! You asked me to go back out  _ there, _ away from you, when you knew that you… That we were running out of  _ time _ …”

Beau throws her arms out, her clothes completely drenched in rain and mud. When she answers, is by yelling, trying to make herself heard over the howling of wind and water.

“Yasha, we’ve been running out of time since the day I was born!”

Yasha’s breath itches at the finality of those words, at the way Beau seems to be  _ okay _ with it. With dying.

Keyleth’s words, her teachings, her talks about  _ immortality _ and losing people echo in her mind, and Yasha stumbles on her own feet.

Beauregard catches her.

Of course Beauregard catches her.

She grabs her forearms and steadies her, and Yasha can’t bring herself to step away.

She leans against Beau, gripping her biceps with force, trying to make sense of everything that’s happening.

She lets the rain run over her body, coating her skin, and she relaxes under the familiar smell of the oncoming storm.

“Did the others know?” she asks, barely loud enough for Beau to hear.

Beau hesitates for just one moment.

“No. Only Molly did.”

Yasha is so taken aback by the response that Beau almost smiles.

Yasha can see it, the slight tilt of her mouth, and she blinks.

“Mollymauk?”

Beau nods, droplets of water running down her neck and into her monk robes.

Her skin is covered in chills and her body is visibly shaking, but she doesn’t make a move to get back to the tent.

Yasha looks at it, right behind them, and Beau grins, pained.

“It’s okay. We can stay here for as long as you need.”

Yasha’s fingers dig so deep in Beau’s skin that she’s afraid she might leave a mark.

She stares at this woman, standing in front of her and freezing in the rain, unmoving, unflinching, waiting for her.

Patiently and lovingly, waiting for her to be okay, knowing that Yasha feels safer in the rain.

She stares at this woman, her Soulmate, and she loves her so much that it hurts.

“Beauregard…” she whispers.

Her wings retreat, her eyes slowly go back to their usual color, and her hair fades back to white.

“It’s okay.” Beau repeats, stroking her arms with her thumbs. “It’s okay.”

 

They snuggle on one of the mats, so close to one another that it would be impossible to say whose limbs belong to who.

Yasha envelops Beau with arms and legs, trying to transfer as much of her body heat as she can.

Beau places her palms on her chest, teeth clattering and body shaking violently.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.” Yasha murmurs, worriedly pressing a kiss on Beau’s forehead.

“You s-sound s-surprised.”

Yasha rolls her eyes, tightening her grip on her Soulmate.

For a while, neither of them speaks.

“Why Mollymauk?” she asks in the end, when Beau’s shaking has visibly lessened.

Beau attempts and fails to shrug.

“I needed an honest opinion on the matter.” She says, matter-of-factly. “And I needed to know what the best way to tell you was. So I spoke with him.”

Yasha blinks.

“What did he say?”

There is a pause, and when Beau speaks again, her voice is empty of emotions.

“He… He told me that I needed to be okay with it before I could tell you, because you would’ve needed me.”

Beau laughs with no amusement.

“The bastard was right.  _ ‘It’s your curse, unpleasant one.’ _ He said to me. ‘ _ Your illness, your life and your decision whether to say anything to anyone’ _ .”

Beau stops talking, abruptly, taking a deep breath in.

And Yasha understands.

All of a sudden, everything that’s happened in the past few months started to make sense.

The way Molly had turned to Beau when she had revealed what Caleb had done, and the way she had bristled.

_ “It was his life, Molly. His own decision.” _

The way Molly had relented, the way he’d walked away, with a defeated look on his face.

The way Beau had yelled at Molly when he’d gone to say goodbye.

_ “What if you’re needed here?” _

Her anger, her pain.

_ “What if a moment comes when you will be needed here, and you’re  _ gone _?” _

The way Molly had stood his ground.

The way he’d explained himself.

_ “I want  _ this  _ to be my last memory of you.” _

The way he’d stubbornly decided to go away, to separate himself from all of them so radically.

_ “Now that you’re young, and healthy, and  _ alive  _.” _

The way they’d hugged, the way Beau had looked at him, knowing that she wasn’t going to see him ever again.

Yasha holds Beau as tight as possible, swallowing tears and bile.

“Everything makes sense, now, huh?” Beau’s voice whispers, knowingly.

Yasha lowers her gaze into her Soulmate’s.

“Beau…”

“He was terrified of seeing me fade the way he’d seen Caleb and Nott fade. But… I think that the idea of me losing memory of him, of you… Molly’s always been very sensitive about memory loss.”

Beau laughs again, betraying herself and the tears that she’d tried to hide.

“Fucking coward.” She hiccups. “I miss him so much.”

Yasha holds her, she holds the small, powerful body of her Soulmate, and she tries to figure out answers that she knows she doesn’t have.

Beau clings to her, and when she looks up with a fire in her eyes, Yasha kisses her, urgently, trying to commit to memory every second and every inch of her Beauregard.

 

They spend two days and two nights camped in the middle of somewhere on the Lucidian Coast.

Yasha doesn’t leave Beau alone for one single second, and for a moment they both feel like they’ve gone back twenty years, when the war was ending and people were going home to their families.

They feel like they’re discovering each other all over again, and in a way, they know it’s true.

With no more secrets between them, with no more haunting truths and painful half lies, Beau and Yasha give themselves to each other fully, gifting themselves with a parenthesis in time where they pretend they can cheat death.

 

“Are you afraid?” Yasha asks when the second night begins to fade into their third day.

The light of the dusk is making its way through the crests of the Summit Peaks, and Beau’s naked body is stretching just outside the tent, glorious and beautiful as it’s always been.

Yasha drinks it in, her eyes shining with want and with love at the sight of her unashamed Soulmate.

Beau yawns and turns her head just so, her long hair falling messily on her shoulders.

“Of what?”

Yasha crawls out of the tent, reaching for Beau and grabbing her waist with gentle hands, pressing her own body against Beau’s warm back.

“Death.” She murmurs, and Beau sighs at the word.

It’s not tense sound, it’s not scared.

It’s almost content.

“I have had many years to make my peace with it.” The woman says after a long moment. “I’ve grown to respect mortality in a way that I never thought I could.”

Yasha presses her lips on Beau’s shoulder.

“I would be really afraid.” She admits.

Beau chuckles.

“Never said I wasn’t.” she looks ahead, at the sunrise. “Fuck, I’m terrified.”

Yasha instinctively wraps her arms around her waist and holds her tighter.

“I’m afraid of everything I’ll be missing.” Beau continues, serene. “I’m scared of what comes next. I’m terrified of leaving you alone.”

She turns around in their embrace, and Yasha holds her breath at the intensity and the strength of those blue eyes.

“But I made my peace with it, with the inevitability of it. Can’t really change it, now, can I?”

Yasha swallows tears and Beau smiles, sadly.

“You’ll be okay, you know?” she murmurs, standing on the tip of her toes to brush her lips against the dark line on Yasha’s chin.

Yasha shakes her head, and brings one hand to cup Beau’s face.

She kisses her Soulmate, eyes open and lost in hers.

 

They leave Tal’Dorei in the early afternoon, boarding a vessel back to Wildemount and spending every waking time together, hand in hand, bodies pressed together.

Frumpkin hisses at the whole crew with animosity, and curls up in Beau’s arms like he knows what has just been confessed.

Back in their home country, Yasha doesn’t question when Beau negotiates for two horses, she doesn’t question when she sees her buying a bottle of good wine from a prestigious liquor store on the Menagerie Coast.

She wonders what Beau’s plans are when they take a different path toward Zadash, but she doesn’t worry.

She trusts her Soulmate once again, and once again follows her and knows that she would do so to the end of the world.

They ride for days, stopping when they want to and living life at its fullest, pushing away the thoughts of the future, feeling wild and young and free.

They ride into a small, dirty looking town that looks like it could have seen better days, and Yasha is not sure she understands why they’re here.

Until Beau stops in front of a tavern, dismounts from her horse and smiles at the tall, slender figure standing in the doorway.

The figure steps in the sun and laughs and Yasha’s heart stops for a second.

“WELCOME TO THE MIGHTY NEIN!”

 

They stay with Kiri for the remainder of the day, taking on the Kenku’s offer to stay the night.

Beau pops open the bottle of wine, revealing with a grin that it’s part of her family’s latest productions.

They enjoy the Lionett’s wine and catch up with Kiri, somehow managing to figure out bits and pieces of her life even though all she can say are echo of words that could never belong to her.

Beau sits back with a smile on her face, enjoying the night as Yasha happily pops Frumpkin in and out of existence to amuse Kiri, loving the sight of two old friends meeting again after decades apart.

They say goodbye to Kiri in the early morning, and Beau holds her in front of her for a long moment, trying to commit to memory every detail of their friend’s smiling face.

 

Life in Zadash goes back to normal.

Or, as normal as it can be after what Beau has revealed.

They agree to tell the truth to Jester, and she takes it surprisingly well considering all that she’s lost and that she has to lose.

Beau sees the pain and the fear in her best friend’s eyes, but Jester’s positivity and optimism seep through it all, managing to hold them together as they spend the night talking about the future.

“It’s okay, Beau.” Jester says with a smile. “I’ll just tell you how awesome I am for the rest of your days, so you won’t forget!”

Yasha chuckles.

“And if you ever forget, it will be my pleasure and honor to read  _ Tusk Love _ all over again to you!”

Beau groans, falling face first onto her pillow, as Yasha and Jester laugh loudly next to her.

Hidden in the pillow, Beau smiles.

 

Beau grows old.

Every year she celebrates her birthday with a grin on her ever smug face.

Every year she thanks Ioun for the strength in her body and in her mind, and every year she sees Yasha do the same.

Every year, every day, every hour is lived like it’s the last one she’ll ever remember, and she realizes how full and happy she ends up being.

Surrounded by Yasha, Jester and Ruby’s love, Beau steps forward in her life and contentedly prepares the Cobalt Soul to a life without her.

 

Beau forgets.

She forgets what it feels like to hold a secret that could ruin all her relationships in one go.

She forgets what it means to be afraid of losing Yasha.

She forgets fear, although it always lives in her.

Sometimes, she even forgets of that curse that hangs over her head like a guillotine.

Those times are the times when Jester is tackling her to the ground with the force of her hugs.

Times when she’s laughing with her best friend until they both have tears in their eyes.

They’re the times when Ruby comes to her and asks her to train her, to help her meditate, to talk to her about things that she doesn’t feel like talking about with her mother.

Times when they both sit just outside the gates of the city, Ruby asking about her father, Beau answering about her best friend.

Those are the times when Yasha looks at her with so much love and touches her with so much care that Beau feels like she’s the most precious treasure in Exandria.

Times when the world is so colorful and bright, and it is because of her Soulmate smiling softly next to her.

 

Beau grows older.

Her hair slowly whitens, her skin slowly ages.

Her body, always strong and flexible, starts to tire more easily, and the soreness that would usually accompany her limbs for a few hours starts to last full days.

Yasha sees it in the way Beau moves, with more attention and less carelessness.

She sees it in the way Beau stretches every morning and every night, and she feels it under  her fingers when she helps massage the soreness away.

She sees it all, but she still doesn’t realize what it’s happening right away.

It’s very subtle, at the beginning, and that’s why Yasha doesn’t notice. That’s why she can’t pinpoint exactly when and how it starts.

She starts realizing it slowly, one small detail at the time.

She starts noticing when Beau starts to change her day clothes in the adjacent room, instead of their bedroom.

She starts noticing by how Beau blows all the candles out, without leaving any light in the comfort of their room.

She starts noticing when taking baths together stops being a daily occurrence.

Little by little, Yasha notices.

She sees Beau,  _ her _ Beau, being her usual self around everyone else, but slowly distancing herself from her when they’re alone, when they’re intimate.

Yasha doesn’t understand what is happening, but she accepts it nonetheless, not wanting to put pressure on Beau if she’s not ready to talk.

She accepts it, giving Beau room to take the lead in their relationship, giving her the chance to guide it as she pleases.

Until.

Until the touches slowly disappear.

Until the kisses shorten and almost stop altogether.

Until they find themselves sleeping in the same bed, but with so much of joined hands and soft I love yous as only greetings and salutations.

Until Yasha looks at her Soulmate disappear, one night, behind the curtains that separates their bedrooms from the washing room, and can’t remember when it’s the last time that Beau has kissed her.

Yasha sits cross-legged on the bed, fingers nervously stroking Frumpkin as she waits for Beau to come back.

When she does, it’s with her sleep clothes already on and her braid undone, fingers threading expertly through long hair.

Beau stops when she sees Yasha sitting in the middle of the bed, stoic and unmoving.

“Uh, everything okay?” she grunts, eyes moving momentarily to a particularly stubborn tangle of knots.

Yasha blinks. She had always been the one to comb Beau’s hair. When had that changed?

“Did I upset you, Beau?” she asks, voice miraculously firm in its softness. “Or hurt you, or offend you, or… disrespect you, in any way?”

Beau’s jaw falls slack.

“Uh. I- the  _ fuck _ ?”

Yasha, although used to her Soulmate’s bluntness and adorable awkwardness, for a moment wishes that she wouldn’t have to spell it out.

“You’re not touching me anymore. No.” she stops, frowns, reformulates. “You won’t let  _ me _ touch  _ you _ , anymore.”

She takes a deep breath, kneading her fingers deeper into Frumpkin’s long fur, eyes low.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I don’t know how, or, or when, but… I noticed you pulled away and… I’m sorry…”

Before she can even start to rethink what she’s doing, or what she’s supposed to be saying, Beau’s hands enter her vision, one landing on one of hers and pushing the other to grab her chin.

Yasha’s breath itches in her throat. They haven’t been this close in Gods know how long.

Beau’s eyes are full of pain, regret and something akin to anger.

“Yasha, no. Yash, please, just… Stop. I…” Beau curses under her breath, shaking her head. “I am so sorry. I fucked up. I… You never hurt me. You could never hurt me, Yash.”

Yasha doesn’t understand, and she looks at Beau expectantly, and patiently.

Beau’s warm hands come to cup her face, and Yasha sighs, pressing her forehead against Beau’s.

“Yash, I… I was ashamed, I think. I… I look at you, and you’re so… Perfect. Frozen in time, beautiful like the day I met you.”

Beau traces her chin tattoo with her thumb, and Yasha feels her, more than sees her, shaking.

“An angel.” Beau breathes. “My beautiful, immortal angel.”

Beau shrugs.

“But me… I couldn’t understand how you could possibly still want me, like…”

“Like what?”

“Like this.”

Yasha blinks several times, pushing herself away to take a look at Beauregard.

She takes a good, long look.

At her eyes, the lines of her mouth.

She feels her warm hands, she feels her warm breath.

If she was to press a palm against her chest, Yasha is sure she could sense the same heart beating against it.

She blinks back up at Beau, confused.

“Like what?” she repeats.

Beau’s eyes clear, soften, somehow more in love than Yasha’s ever seen them, and a thin layer of tears start to form in them.

“You really can’t see it, can you?” she asks with a half broken laugh.

Yasha shakes her head.

“My body has changed, Yash.” Beau explains with a smile. “I am not young, or fit, or… My skin is not smooth and clear like it once was. I am old, my body is old and I just… I was afraid you wouldn’t want me or like me anymore.”

Yasha opens and closes her mouth, frowning.

“You thought that I would love you or want you any less because your body carries the lines of time and the scars of your battles? That the signs that your body has because of the life you breathe could make me… like you any less?”

Beau pouts, which looks almost comical if it wasn’t for the seriousness of the situation.

“Okay, well, when you say it like  _ that _ …”

Yasha makes a surprised noise.

“Beauregard! I never loved you or wanted you because of your body, even you must certainly know that!” she exclaims.

“Bullshit, you’ve always loved my abs an- HEY. What do you mean,  _ ‘even you’ _ ?”

Yasha snorts an incredulous laugh, her hands grabbing Beau by her waist and pulling her up into her lap.

Instinctively to them both, they fall in place, Beau’s hands coming to wrap around her Soulmate’s neck, Yasha’s resting on the small of the other woman’s back.

“You’re such an idiot, Beauregard.” Yasha murmurs, relief spreading all over her chest like a warm fire.

Beau flinches, narrowing her eyes, a guilty expression on her face.

“Yeah, guess I am.” She huffs, before trapping her lower lip between her teeth, almost like she’s trying to hold back from saying something.

“What?” Yasha asks.

“You know, at some point you just… Stopped touching me, too. You stopped trying to kiss me or initiate things. I figured I had been right, that you didn’t want me anymore, and never tried to get closer to you either.”

Yasha can’t believe that all this has happened because they’re so terrible at communicating.

“I thought you needed space.” She answers. “So I gave you some. I was trying to let you take the lead, to let you do things at your own pace. I guessed you didn’t want me anymore either.”

Beau stares at her, almost disbelieving.

“Wow, almost a century together and we’re so  _ fucking _ bad at this relationship thing.”

Yasha loughs, loudly, feeling light in her heart.

“I don’t know.” She says, looking up at Beau with a spark in her eyes, her fingers pressing underneath the hem of Beau’s pants to touch soft skin.

Beau’s pupils blow wide, as do her eyes.

“I think we’re doing pretty well.”

Beau chuckles, her lips crushing onto Yasha’s with fierceness.

 

Beau forgets.

She forgets she has meetings with the Council. She forgets the names of some of the Council members.

She forgets where she puts her things, her weapons.

She forgets the way to the rooms, to the market.

One day, as she’s teaching to the most expert monks, twirling her bo staff between still strong fingers, she stops, narrow her eyes and takes a deep breath when her weapon slips from her grasp and tumbles to the ground.

Yasha, prompted on a nearby trunk in the yard of the Archive, closes the book in her hands and looks for Beau’s eyes.

She finds them already looking at her, shocked, almost scared, and confused.

The monks chuckle.

“Did you just forget how to spin a staff, Beau?” one of the acolytes laughs.

Beau looks down to her students, and blinks.

Yasha is about to take a step forward, unsure whether to intervene or not, when Ruby speaks up from the middle of the group.

“Nah, man. She just saw the General and got starstruck. Happens all the time.”

The monks turn their heads to look at where Yasha’s standing, then they double over in laughter.

Beau grabs the bo from the grass and hits the acolyte who’d spoken in the first place hard on the head.

“And it’s Headmaster Beau to you, you ass.” She laughs. “Now, back to the lesson…”

Yasha releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She sends a grateful glance at Ruby, and the young woman’s eyes are full of fear.

So Beau forgets.

But never Ruby, or anyone of her lost friends.

She forgets, but never Jester.

Never Yasha.

 

Beau wakes Yasha up in the middle of the night with a coughing fit.

At first, Yasha doesn’t fully understand why she feels so disoriented. She is too worried about Beau to stop and consider why something feels off.

They’ve had a pleasant week, with the sun shining over the city and a nice dinner with the other monks.

Nothing weird has happened. Yet, as she places a hand on her Soulmate’s shaking shoulder, Yasha can’t shake the feeling that there’s something going on.

It’s only when Beau tiredly turns around, the corner of her lip stained in blood, that Yasha  _ sees _ it.

Or doesn’t see it.

Yasha’s heart stops for a second, and Beau smiles, sadly. Knowingly.

Yasha’s colors are not as vivid as they were last night. They’re faint, and faded, and  _ weaker _ .

Beau grabs her hand and only then Yasha realizes that she’s the one shaking, now.

“Take me to Jester?” Beau pleads, weakly, roughly, contentedly.

 

Jester answers the door faster than expected.

Her red-rimmed eyes are full of pain, and Yasha and Beau exchange a confused look.

“Traveler warned me.” Jester whispers, pouting, as she takes Beau into her arms.

 

Yasha leaves Jester and Beau alone and enters Ruby’s room to wake her up.

The girl –the woman- opens her eyes and, ever perceptive, ever her mother’s daughter, understands.

Or maybe, Yasha thinks as her little girl throws her arms around her neck and hides a sob, maybe it shows too clearly on her face.

 

They sit with Beauregard for a couple of hours, all of them, talking, reminiscing, laughing, crying.

Frumpkin plops on Beau’s legs and purrs his affection and pain away, biting on Beau’s clothes and once in a while clawing its way into a more comfortable position, and Yasha doesn’t think it’s fair for him to lose both his humans.

Jester holds Beau in her lap and Yasha doesn’t think it’s fair for them to be the same age and to look so different in health and life.

Ruby collects her blades and shaves Beauregard’s undercut once more, and Yasha doesn’t think it’s fair that the two of them had so little time together.

Yasha holds Beau’s fingers and Yasha doesn’t think it’s fair Beauregard is the one that has to die.

They hold Beau together as much as they can, and Beau stoically smiles and laughs.

But Beau also coughs, and she coughs blood, and with every drop she sees, Yasha sees her colors getting fainter.

 

Dusk approaches, and Jester gently deposits Beau between Yasha’s arms.

Yasha, who’s been mainly silent.

Yasha, who’s been more than content to just sit and watch, more than content to just drink in the sight of the love of her life simply breathing.

Yasha, who doesn’t know how to face this, who doesn’t know what to say, who doesn’t know how to say it.

But Beau knows it. She knows  _ her _ .

And she doesn’t need words. They always messed up things with words anyway.

Beau smiles and pulls herself up just enough to kiss Yasha’s lips gently, weakly, rubbing the tip of her nose against Yasha’s chin tattoo.

Ruby fakes gagging noises and Jester laughs.

Yasha hopes Beau doesn’t notice their voices shaking, but when she meets those blue eyes, still bright and deep and wise, she knows it’s a lost hope.

Beau’s head falls on Yasha’s chest as the old woman sighs, looking at her best friend, their little girl, and then her Soulmate for one more time.

“Hey, Yash?” Beau murmurs.

Yasha chokes back tears. “Mhm?”

Beau’s blue eyes meet hers, and Beauregard smiles the crooked grin Yasha’s seen her wearing the first time they met.

Yasha holds her closer, tighter.

“I owe you five gold.” Beau breathes out, as her eyes gently blink closed.

And then, slowly, Beauregard’s head lulls back against her Soulmate’s arm, and Yasha’s world fades to grey.

 

The celebrations for the Headmaster of the Cobalt Soul last for seven days and seven nights.

The Archives change the blue of every draping, curtain and banner into shades of grey and black, and the monks change their robes into the same colors to honor the passing of their leader.

Zadash soon follows suit, until the whole city is draped in grey under the sun to mourn for a woman who unexpectedly changed many people’s lives.

When Jester tells her that it was Ruby’s idea to simulate Yasha’s sight, the General of Xhoras weeps and falls to her knees between her best friends arms.

 

It’s because of this that Yasha doesn’t see it immediately, she doesn’t realize what’s happening.

But the night after Beauregard’s passing, Yasha looks out the window of their once shared room and sees the moons.

Both of them stare back at her, in all their golden and red-purplish glory.

Yasha blinks, her breath catching in her throat, and lowers her gaze on to Frumpkin, who is curled up on Beauregard’s pillow. His orange fur shines in the moonlight.

Yasha is in Beau’s burial chambers before realizing what this even means, but as her eyes fall on her Soulmate’s lifeless body, her heart sinks down in to her stomach.

A thunder resonates in the far distance, and Yasha feels the rage building in her body as she faces the balcony and screams a guttural, deep, furious, pained scream.

“Why?!” she questions the rain, furious. “WHY?”

A voice, the same voice that has followed her and whispered to her in so many crucial moments of her life, speaks up.

“My gift to you, child.”

Yasha screams, louder, unaware of the monks who have been gathered at the chamber’s door, eyes wide in hearing a God speaking, heart heavy in hearing their General’s suffering.

“TAKE THEM BACK.”

The Stormlord sighs, pained. “One day, you’ll understand.”

“I DON’T NEED THEM.”

Yasha falls to her knees, as the storm outside grows in intensity.

“I… I need  _ her _ .”

The monks behind her stand, frozen, and wait for an answer that never comes.

 

Yasha knocks on Jester’s door after Beauregard’s burial.

It’s the fourth day of the celebrations, and Ruby has been appointed as Headmaster  _ ad interim _ until the Council decides how to replace the former one.

Jester’s eyes are redder, more tired than Yasha’s ever seen them.

As she takes in Yasha’s shawl and duffel bag, Jester’s head falls.

Yasha hates to bring more sorrow to her best friend’s heart, but she knows Jester will understand.

And Jester does. She hugs her tightly, whispering in her ear “Will I see you again?”

Yasha swallows, and nods.

Jester sniffs, and laughs a wet laugh.

“Liar.”

 

Yasha stops at the edge of the big yard at the center of the Archives, watches as Ruby teaches the young monks, leaning on a bo staff that Yasha knows all too well.

Ruby doesn’t notice her right away, but when she does, her smile cracks.

She raises a hand, hesitates, and then snaps her fingers.

Frumpkin pops onto Yasha’s shoulder, yawning and settling in the curve of her shawl.

Ruby smiles, sadly, turning back to teach to her monks.

And Yasha walks away.

 

It’s the middle of the day, and Zadash watches as Yasha walks amongst them without stopping, without looking up.

It’s the middle of a grim day, and Zadash stands and understands, and mourns the loss of yet another hero.

 

Yasha leaves Wildemount.

Her feet guide her where her soul craves for understanding and the company of someone who can help her find a way.

And as soon as Trinket spots her from the top of the hill, Yasha knows that she’ll find dinner and a warm bed to welcome her at the end of her first journey.

Keyleth and Vex don’t say much, and Yasha is grateful.

She mourns and works for their village during the day, crying and sleeping through nightmares during the night.

Keyleth and Vex don’t ask questions, and Yasha is grateful.

Decades have passed since the first and last time they’d seen each other, but Yasha finds a quiet understanding and a closeness to the two women that she can’t explain.

Keyleth and Vex keep acting like they did the last time she’s seen them, but Yasha notices it.

She notices the sad glances that Keyleth sends her companion when Vex isn’t looking at her, and Yasha recognizes the fear and the sorrow in those gazes.

She recognizes how similar once again her and Keyleth are, cursed to outlive everyone else around them, every single one of the people they love.

Once again, Yasha thinks of Beau and how wise she had been when she’d brought her to meet Kiki.

 

For four seasons, Yasha stays.

For four seasons, she mourns in silence.

For four seasons, she remembers how it is to live them without Beau.

 

Yasha leaves one early morning of summer.

Keyleth and Vex hug her tight and smile at her in understanding, and Yasha feels her heart heavy in her chest.

Keyleth and Vex hold back the tears until Yasha is out of earshot, until the only thing they see is a large raven hovering over the lost Aasimar.

 

Yasha leaves Tal’Dorei.

Her feet guide her as her soul wanders aimlessly.

She travels through mountains, rivers, snow storms and desert tempests. She pushes forward, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and what was once her home.

She boards vessels and lesser ships, remembering of times with pirates and dragons slayed and friends made and lost.

 

Yasha leaves Issylra.

She visits Vasselheim and the remaining of Pyrah.

She touches land to what is known in Exandria as The Shattered Teeth archipelago. Touching many of the small islands, one day she finds one that is different from the others.

Flowers bloom from the coast up to the mountain, in a path of colors and smells that Yasha’s heart feels like she had forgotten.

With something resembling hope in her spirit, Yasha follows the path.

And Frumpkin follows her.

 

The island is filled with the beauty of those flowers, and Yasha scouts the deserted place for a day and a night before reaching a clearing in the middle of the forest.

As the early morning fog dissipates, Yasha holds her breath.

There, a few steps from her, amongst the flowers, tending to them like a loving parent, Mollymauk Tealeaf stands, rubs his palms on his pants and looks up.

His eyes widen almost comically and a smile is already splitting his face when he seems to notice something, or the lack of something.

Of someone.

His face falls, and he’s in Yasha’s arms before she can actually process what is happening.

 

They sit in the flowers for what feels like days, and Yasha feels oddly comforted by all the colors. She has realized with pain that she can’t see the blue of the sky, but she doesn’t seem to notice any flower with any shade of grey in what Molly calls the Eden.

“I understand why you left, now.” Yasha murmurs, twirling a soft, yellow flower in her hands.

Molly swallows a lump of tears.

“Did she ever…?”

Yasha looks up into scared and scarred eyes.

“Never.” She whispers. “She never forgot any of us. She forgot a whole load of other things but never you, or us, or the Nein.”

Molly laughs.

“Of course, she didn’t. Bastard.”

Yasha cracks a smile.

“She really had to make me pay for leaving.”

Molly laughs and Yasha, somehow, laughs too.

“She had a way of getting under people’s skins.” She concedes.

Molly nods, and they sit, in silence, watching the lazy movement of the sun.

 

“Do you miss her?”

Yasha looks down.

“Like someone cut a hole in me.”

 

Yasha stays with Mollymauk for five years.

In the spectrum of her immortality and of Molly’s longevity, it’s close to a release of breath, but it still feels like an eternity.

Yasha travels the forty three islands of the archipelago, avoiding as much as possible to make herself seen.

She lives in silence, meditation and wonder, asking her God for guidance and reassurance, and her God sometimes answers, sometimes doesn’t.

It takes five years for Yasha to realize that she has to learn how to live by herself again, if she wants to hope to, one day, feel whole once more.

“I don’t regret leaving all of you.” Molly tells her. “By being on my own, I learned how to deal with the pain and how to be happy without the presence of others. It was the only way to get over the loss.”

“Did it work?” Yasha asks.

Molly smiles, sadly. “In part.”

 

Yasha feels the call of the Stormlord one afternoon, hears the tempest in the far distance, out in the Lucidian Ocean.

She packs her belongings and looks at Frumpkin.

“Thank you.” She says.

Frumpkin purrs, nudging her large hand for a chin scratch.

“Say hi to Ruby and Jester for me.”

Frumpkin meows, sadly.

Yasha snaps her fingers.

 

She says goodbye to Molly once again, and her heart is lighter, because she knows she’ll come back to visit.

She boards vessel after vessel, day after day, and follows the call of her God.

She travels, month after month, looking for something that even she doesn’t know what it is.

She wanders and wonders, year after year, exploring Exandria and bringing pride to her God.

She completes missions, saves lives, changes worlds, and watches as the colors of the world bring her back the joy of a new life.

The Stormlord speaks gently to her, asking and never demanding, but knowing that Yasha will bring to term whatever mission the God presents.

And so Yasha travels.

For fifteen more years, Yasha travels, until one day, her feet touch the green lands of the Menagerie Coast.

Instead of stinging pain, Yasha feels nostalgia.

Instead of rage, Yasha feels resignation.

And so, when the Stormlord leads her to Trostenwald, Yasha sighs, contentedly.

She sits at that tavern where her life really started, where her family was once found, and almost laughs at a bard announcing the arrival of a travelling circus.

Nursing an ale, eyes in the clear liquid, Yasha smiles.

Everything has come full circle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then a bunch of coins clatter on the table where she’s sitting.

Yasha counts five coins.

Five golds.

Blinking up, Yasha meets eyes the color of a sky she hasn’t seen in twenty years.

“Will you hold me through the show?”

_**THE END** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. We're at the end. Officially. I hope you don't hate me too much.  
> As promised, a full explanation is mandatory, but as I tried to write here I realized there was too much to say.  
> If you like, head over to my Ko-Fi: http://ko-fi.com/lexalivesinus or directly to my last post here: https://ko-fi.com/Blog/Post/Last-six-months-Z8Z0Q1VX?justpublished=true
> 
> This universe is far from being over, to be honest. I want to write more. I dream of more. My heart knows more.  
> But once again, it will all depends on many things (again, read the ko-fi post to understand).
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around, thank you all for the support, thank you all for being awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all let me know what you think of it or come talk to me about this mess or tumblr, same handle.


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